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My black cat was nicknamed Little Girl, because she was a pitiful little thing when I first got her off the street, full of fleas and whatnot. She turned out to be incredibly affectionate (but not clingy), and would love to just flop down on her back so you could rub her belly while she kneaded the air. She also liked to knead my head while I lay in bed, one paw in my hair and the other digging deep into my pillow. I remember the first time she did this freaked me out a little because of the way she poked my pillow with her claws and pulled until the fabric made a popping noise as they got released from her claws, but she never, ever so much as scratched me -- she knew it was my skin, and she would be very gentle. When she first came, and got acquainted with my cat, who is the best boy in the whole world (his name is Horus but he's Kitty Witty always  :  Strategizing how best to control their humans (seeing this shot, I'm reminded again of how I hated the floor of that old apartment I used to live in):  Lounging on the sofa:  That little kitten grew up to be quite large:  One of the few non-flash photos I have that doesn't make her look like a blurry blob (sun was shining brightly through the living room window): 
Midrena fucked around with this message at 05:55 on Oct 28, 2011 |
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Oct 28, 2011 05:51
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| # ¿ May 8, 2024 09:50 |
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A thought I had: If all our black cats got together to have dinner, I would be kinda hard-pressed to find mine with a glance or two. No distinctive fur details or markings, and no unique eye color. At least she'd make a high, slightly chirpy meow if I called out "Little Girl!"
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Oct 28, 2011 07:08
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