Jazzy. Poor thing is pretty much out of roommates.
Brother – gone to medical school. Sister – gone to college. Dad – gone to new relationship and home. Mom – free of responsibility and gallivanting all over New England, sometimes even on a weeknight. (Yes, I think that’s wickedly daring. I am a middle-aged, old fashioned(ish) woman).
She’s usually such a little witch, my cat, as cats seem to be, but showing up now and then to fill her food and water bowls and scoop the litter box has made her…uhm…darn close to loving. She purrs and head butts me as if she actually misses me. There’s a little kitty Stockholm Syndrome going on, perhaps.
We did have this game of put-new-sheets-on-the-bed, coat-them-with-cat-hair-before-every-corner-is-even-tucked-in this weekend. That game is only second to coat-fresh-warm-laundry-with-cat-hair. We played that too this weekend. Keep the home fires burning, kitty. Momma’s a rolling stone right now!