I have a love/hate relationship with my cats.
There are four of them. Not quite the crazy lady with all the cats, but please – someone stop me before I get to that point.
All different personalities…
Lista – the little girl. Skinny and skittish. But sit down and she is right there on your lap with her sharp sharp little claws kneading your tummy.
Louie – chubby tuxedo cat. OK, fat. And when he sits around the house, he sits AROUND the house. (rim shot)
Monroe – orange tabby – AKA Mean-roe – still dealing with his sexuality – finding love in all the wrong places – usually with a random article of clothing.
Ding Tut – the new boy – sort of the color of a Dreamsicle – a stocky, adorable, lover – a head butting, paws around your neck nuzzler.
However, leave them alone and destruction ensues. It always amazes me how they can be so peaceful – sleeping – usually on a pile of papers. And then as they wake up - the papers and anything next to them end up scattered on the floor.
But because they chortle and purr – and their fur is soft and soothing – I put up with them and their total lack of concern for my stuff. Here is Ding Tut sleeping on a pile of papers – and the end result.