Since I know you’re only friends with me for my cat, you get two cat posts in a row! You lucky ducks. And lucky Cambria. She basks in the fame. In fact, I think it’s getting to her head a little bit. A few posts on a blog, and BOOM, she thinks she’s the Queen of England. Or at least the Queen of the Apartment. (You know, like that new Bruno Mars/Eminem song, “Had a dream I was king queen, I woke up, still king queen.” No? Not feeling it? Okay. I’ll move on.) Now she thinks she can sit wherever she likes. Like on the bath mat when I’m about to shower…
"Dis texture is pleasing to meh. Ai shall stay."
Or on the bed when I’m trying to make it…
This picture is clearly post-make, but you can still see how in the way she was. Poor throw pillows and stuffed alligator, there was no room for them because someone was in the way...
but she cares not. She licks her paw in your general direction, you son of a silly person. Now go away, or she shall taunt you a second time.
Or on the bag that she pulled out of the plastic bag sleeve, out of the kitchen, and onto her favorite bit of carpet…
"Tha's right. Ima queen. Ai do what Ai wants."
Please ignore my piles of books in the background. I've run out of shelf space, and now they live in stacks on the floor. I suppose it's time to invest in another shelf.
Why do I put up with such ridiculous behavior, you ask? Because she’s a cat and her brain isn’t very large, that’s why. And because at the end of the day, she does stuff like this with me…
She lies on my lap and purrs happily while I read. (Yes, I’m using a neck pillow. They’re crazy comfortable. Don’t judge me.) And she purrs and meows whenever I get home like she’s missed me so much she couldn’t stand it. And she keeps my feet warm at night. And she wakes us up in the mornings with a snuggle, like she missed us all night and is excited we’re awake again. And she does funny things like try to catch raindrops as they fall down the window. And one time when I cried, she licked away my tears. It was probably just because they were salty, but I’m going to pretend it’s because she knew and cared that I was upset.
So yeah, my cat is a total goober. But I wouldn’t change her for anything.
(Oh no. That got unexpectedly sentimental and gooey, which can only mean that this week is going to get worse very quickly. I apologize in advance for any hormonal and overly emotional outpourings that happen over the course of the next several days. It’s not my fault, and I don’t like it either. I promise to return to normal as soon as I can stuff the hormone monster back into her closet, which could take a while. That joker is feisty.)
Lovely Little Things 