This is going to be a story about the fuzzy, striped terrorist who has invaded our hearts and lives. I only wish I had pictures of these antics to share with you.
Yesterday she ran into a wall. Not grazed, ran into. She was chasing my feet in some bizarre game of her own that I wasn't playing - I was just walking along, minding my own business - and as I left the room, she missed the doorway. How embarrassing.
Last night, she and I played her favorite game. Keep in mind, i was sleeping (or rather, trying to) at the time. It's called "are you sure you don't want to pet me? Because I think you do" and it involves pushing her way under my sleeping arms and hands and loooooooving my chin with her cold wet nose, and streeeeeeeetching out her paws into my nostrils, eyes and mouth claws (mercifully clipped and blunt because of these tendencies) fully extended. Oh, and did I mention she also purrs like my family's old Toyota Corolla when the muffler fell off? Loudly. Insistently. In your face.
She goes ballistic over socks. They're better than the myriad of toys she now owns. She prefers them balled so she can get s good grip with forepaws and teeth and still get some good kicking in, but she's not terribly picky. Boyfriend's smelly, dirty socks that have only minutes before been removed from his man feet work just as well. She even cleaned them a bit for him. You know, like cats do. With her tongue. Yeeergh.
It's a good thing she's such an adorable weirdo.
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