Since Colin and I returned from London, we are able to indulge in having animals again. Our first feline acquisition is BETTY (seen here), who is completely bonkers.
Betty is a rescue kitty, who was feral for the first 10 weeks of her life. But that doesn’t explain her madness. Nothing could explain her penchant (obsession, more correctly) with twist ties. Or the fact that she snubs her nose at fish and chicken but seems to adore the little round “Science Diet” nuggets we serve her. She cuddles with the bannister post. She comes when we call– but just part way. Then perks her ears, looks at us from the end of the bed, then pounces on our chests.
And then there is our chests. Chests, it seems, are the only location on our body that Betty really likes. She’ll come stand on our chests, even lay on Colin(!) when we are laying on the bed (ONLY the bed!) with the comforter over us.
Betty disdains of Colin’s hair-covered skin, and won’t come near me if I lay on the sofa with the blanket covering me there. And, in fact, the sofa blanket she hates most of all, stepping peevishly around it whenever it partially blocks her access to our legs.
Oh.. that’s right. I forgot … she also will come to our legs. When she sit on the couch, with our legs crossed. Propped on the table. And properly covered in pants, not shorts, of course.
Betty generally prefers Colin… that is unless Colin isn’t around. Then she prefers me. She rolls on her side on the kitchen table to get a belly rub, but if you approach her wrong (like breathing, for example), she’ll become so frightened of having her belly rubbed — by us or anyone else — she roll right off the side of the table.
She’s a klutz, a moron, a dork, a weirdo and a dweeb. But she’s adorable… especially when she’s cuddling the bannister post and carrying a twist tie lovingly in her mouth.
