I'm not positive, but I think this is the Siamese cat I always thought of as being my mother's. I was about five years old when my parents divorced, so you can understand why I'm not clear on the identity of this particular cat. As I've mentioned before, it was a rather foul-tempered beast, but that may have been due to having to live with two very active boys (Brother Dave was around nine). Additionally, the cat had its tail broken at some point — the story I recall was that the tail got caught in the door.
On a happier note, here's the lady watching me have breakfast. She began her day around 2 a.m. my time, but lying across my throat. It was petting time. Just to prove what a doting father I am, I didn't move her. Instead, I pet her for some time. Then, I let her fall asleep. Right there. On top of my throat. Near my adam's apple.
Hmmm... who's in charge here?
No comments:
Post a Comment