I am a cat lover. I am an animal lover really – kind of to the extreme. I once made a boyfriend stop the car and bring a baby bunny rabbit that we had hit to the animal hospital because I was so upset – even though the situation was hopeless. I can’t watch Animal Planet for more than 10 minutes, because inevitably I get so upset I am forced to grab the nearest cat and hug him and squeeze him and call him George (rather, Henry or Eliza, whichever was unfortunate enough to be close by when I needed them).
I have two cats (if you haven’t caught it yet, they are Henry and Eliza, Pygmalion namesakes) that my husband and I adopted from the Chester County, PA SPCA. Eliza is too smart, too fat, and too loving for her own good. Henry is too scared and too timid and likes to go outside too much. They are both indoor cats and spoiled rotten.
Eliza has discovered that if she is hungry at 4 am in the morning, all she needs to do is find a plastic bag somewhere and play in it, making so much noise that one of us will get up. Otherwise she spends the night walking over us (she weighs a solid 14 pounds – she’s no lightweight) to let us know that the food we gave her at 11 pm was insufficient for her needs, and we must get up right now and give her more.
This is Eliza. She once got herself stuck under my dresser, and she is so neurotic she will chew the fur off her paws when she gets bored.
1 comment:
does the TV make you cry?
that's a quality pic!
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