|the crocheted blanket will suffice, for now . . .|
the cat I don't have is leaving me . . .
It's a fractured and furry story, as most are, but I took in a feline house guest for a few months, which extended. In that time, he went from being the house guest to the overseer, as cats are wont to do.
He hated me at first, howling for his Mom and wondering why my apartment was so much smaller than what he was accustomed to. His Mom was part of a knitting group I joined to learn to crochet (another story, another time), and I invited the group over often to help him feel at home.
He and I have come to an agreement where he is allowed to roam the halls and run the stairways most days (his fat furry butt needs the exercise) so long as he comes home when I call or whistle.
He's currently sleeping beside my computer and I have to keep moving his head off the Ctrl key.
He was to leave in October.
It's now March.
His Mom is coming to fetch him later this month, so I'm overdosing on his feline asshattery (he is a cat, after all). Many of my colleagues will miss him, as will my WeChat friends who love his every photo (he's extremely photogenic and has a reasonable staff writer). My asthma will not miss him, but he is such a character that even knowing I am allergic to his furry awesomeness doesn't stop me from burying my face in it.
|"bring me Leia"|
I'll miss you, Fur Beast . . .