About a month ago, we (I) adopted a new little girl.
Yes, we do that. We’re that kind of cool.
She’s adorable, and sweet, and funny, not potty trained (yet) has a birth defect and she’s a cat.
I’ll let my awesomeness spread over you for a sec.
Her furry brothers, Willie and Earl, love her, and her Mommy takes her to bed for cuddles.
Her Daddy just keeps tossing his American Express on the counter and mumbling, “This is gonna cost me”, and then feeds her fresh fish from the fishmonger down the street because he’s convinced that that is what she really likes, and asks,”Where’s her favorite toy?” because she doesn’t have one but he thinks she does and I’m hiding it from her because that’s the kind of mind games I play, and “Did she have a good day today?” like any day lounging on a silk pillow with a saucer of milk by your side could be a bad day even if you do have a wonky back leg, and “Did she play today? Were the boys nice?” because maybe I should somehow have a conversation with Willie and Earl and explain to them that she’s ‘Special Needs’, and “When is her next appointment? I’m going.”
“Of course I’m going?”
“Of course. Like that’s a regular occurrence and I shouldn’t be questioning you?”
“Let’s just say I’m interested.”
“O….K…. And you’ll schedule around this?”
“My schedule’s my own. I do what I want.”
Of course you do…
|Little Miss Peg.
With her two appendages:
Only one is a tail.