That face. So cute.
Her name: IttyBitty.
Because she was itty-bitty, so tiny
with an irresistible, cute face
She brings us a toy to throw so she can fetch.
We have a game: if I put something in her tall cat tree, she races up to take it down.
She stands and looks at everything.
Nothing is safe from her reach.
And she makes us laugh.
I made her a “jungle gym” out of cardboard boxes when she was tiny because she was so active climbing everything; on that she could play by running in and out and up and around.
And she really doesn’t like to cuddle.
But she likes to be “by.”
So she often naps beside me, on my desk.
And sometimes, she races around the house so wild we are sure she’s going to have a heart attack.
We say, “She was so cute in the van” — the humane society van where we got her.
Now, when she’s wildly demanding our attention and racing through the house, we say, “Itty went to sleep and Bitty is awake.” Truly, she’s an Itty and a biddy.
We take her for one or two walks in the backyard everyday, encouraging her to race around and explore. Outside, she’s not as fierce as she is inside where she’s tough and thinks she’s in charge.
Last month, I moved my Belgium plate from my granddaughter to a safe place high on the book shelf.
Today, I hear an unusual noise.
I turn around.
She’s climbed the bookcase. That’s the plate between her legs.
She’s ours. We love her. It will be an interesting twelve or so years.