Attention: I have reached a startling conclusion.
In regards to my graphic image of the precious kitten posted on my previous post, Dani slyly suggested that I am evolving into a "cat lady."
Therefore, I feel it imperative to defend my decisions and also announce my commitment to embrace the unfortunate label.
As a young girl, I was unable to mother a kitten because of our apartment living circumstances. So, of course, it's all I ever wanted. Those of you who know me well can recall the passion I invest when sharing my story of the Papa John's kitty.
After spending many endless hours playing with the cats at my grandma's, those around me became suspicious that I might be allergic to cat hair. My cat owning history involves two characters: Sting, named after the British singer, and his literal wife, Trudy. By default, Sting came into my life when my mom was remarried to Mikey M. I could probably write a full-length story about that wretched cat & his healing powers. On my 13th birthday, Mike took me to the Animal Homeless Shelter where I selected my white-haired, blue-eyed kitten Trudy, despite my alleged allergies. Trudy turned out to be quite the vicious feline and was constantly growling because of her misconceptions that she was a dog. Supposedly, she ran away into the wild. Yet, I still firmly believe that my mother was the sole contributor to her death via our Chrysler mivivan.
With time, I developed a jaded, cynical view of these small carnivorous species. After years of despising them, I underwent a change of heart. Which I full-heartedly attribute to Loriana.And now, I can't keep my hands off the cute and furry creatures. My face cringes into that genuine look of adoration and I squeal a drawn out "awwwww" whenever kittens and I come in contact.
My 15 year old brother, Parker, always accuses me of becoming a "cat lady." In the past, this was usually followed with me screaming and slamming my door. Of course, when I perceive a "cat lady," the first image that arrives in my mind is the scene from the childhood classic, Harriet the Spy. Harriet's elderly bachelor neighbor collects cats, builds bird cages, and eats nothing but yogurt. I have an internal fear that with time, I might evolve a similar way of life. Therefore, I cling to the wise words of our former president, FDR, who once declared, " the only thing we have to fear is fear itself." Thank you, Franklin. With that said, I will continue to dream of kittens and sunflowers.
If I ever acquire an unlimited surplus of money, I do plan on hiring a prestigious scientist to breed a minature kitten. You know, a kitten that will never mature into a dingy, flee-riden cat. Why not? They do it with dogs.
In regards to my graphic image of the precious kitten posted on my previous post, Dani slyly suggested that I am evolving into a "cat lady."
Therefore, I feel it imperative to defend my decisions and also announce my commitment to embrace the unfortunate label.
As a young girl, I was unable to mother a kitten because of our apartment living circumstances. So, of course, it's all I ever wanted. Those of you who know me well can recall the passion I invest when sharing my story of the Papa John's kitty.
After spending many endless hours playing with the cats at my grandma's, those around me became suspicious that I might be allergic to cat hair. My cat owning history involves two characters: Sting, named after the British singer, and his literal wife, Trudy. By default, Sting came into my life when my mom was remarried to Mikey M. I could probably write a full-length story about that wretched cat & his healing powers. On my 13th birthday, Mike took me to the Animal Homeless Shelter where I selected my white-haired, blue-eyed kitten Trudy, despite my alleged allergies. Trudy turned out to be quite the vicious feline and was constantly growling because of her misconceptions that she was a dog. Supposedly, she ran away into the wild. Yet, I still firmly believe that my mother was the sole contributor to her death via our Chrysler mivivan.
With time, I developed a jaded, cynical view of these small carnivorous species. After years of despising them, I underwent a change of heart. Which I full-heartedly attribute to Loriana.
My 15 year old brother, Parker, always accuses me of becoming a "cat lady." In the past, this was usually followed with me screaming and slamming my door. Of course, when I perceive a "cat lady," the first image that arrives in my mind is the scene from the childhood classic, Harriet the Spy. Harriet's elderly bachelor neighbor collects cats, builds bird cages, and eats nothing but yogurt. I have an internal fear that with time, I might evolve a similar way of life. Therefore, I cling to the wise words of our former president, FDR, who once declared, " the only thing we have to fear is fear itself." Thank you, Franklin. With that said, I will continue to dream of kittens and sunflowers.
If I ever acquire an unlimited surplus of money, I do plan on hiring a prestigious scientist to breed a minature kitten. You know, a kitten that will never mature into a dingy, flee-riden cat. Why not? They do it with dogs.
3 comments:
I'm confused...I thought Loraina wrote this.
Kittens are cool animals except I've never been much of a Cat person. Not really much of a dog lover either. I guess I'll stick with the out of the ordinary pets. Like what you ask.. Well I don't really know, more like hmmm... Rabbits, Ferrets, and other less than ordinary pets.
oh my gosh, you are hilarious! Me and Audrey laughed so hard when we read this. I think you should be an author of mysterious cat novels. I would be your biggest fan!
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