Yet another diva moment from my kitten, who seems to always be striking a pose; the kids call the way he daintily crosses his front paws “sitting fancy”. Not terribly fancy when he also extends both back legs out as far as he can reach and resembles a furry bear rug occupying most of the floor, but I gotta admit, he’s a handsome devil and has come a long way from the nearly dead, tiny creature we rescued from that cage at the flea market. I get so angry when I think about it, that someone could let a baby get to that condition, starved, sick, huddled in a cage he couldn’t move in, because his tiny legs would fall between the gaps in the cage, couldn’t even venture to his own filthy food bowl on the other side of the cage. I looked for the renter of that particular area of the market, and lucky for them, we didn’t locate anyone, our priority getting that poor creature home, bathed, and fed.
A lazy Saturday, although I got up early and went for a walk in the park up the street. I hardly ever see anyone else there, which is shameful. A free fitness facility with houses lined up facing it, clearly within walking distance, and seeing as how this is such an insignificant, small town, you can drive to the park from any starting point within minutes, yet there are maybe a handful of people using it at any given time. Oh well, more room for me!
Here’s my kitten getting a rare bath from my old boy, Tweetie, who generally prefers to use the kitten as a punching bag. Tweetie’s not terribly fond of young, hyper animals who perpetually want to play, or really anything that interferes with his precious nap time. It’s hard to tell now that he gave me such a scare a few weeks ago (related post: My Baby), except for the telltale bald spots on one side from the ultrasound, but Bear gently reassured him last week, “Don’t worry, Tweetie, it will grow back.” I second that.