Catz

Catz! I got one. She's white, so I named her Kilo...what else, Snowball? Nah. She's a real cat. Not some figment of a child's imagination. Kilo talks, that's right, she talks. And, by God, I understand her. I know what you're gonna say. So, don't say it. I tell ya, she talks -- all frickin day long. Those of you who have had or have a cat knows how disconcerting a cat's yowl can be. Well, this cat does this all day long. Very disturbing, especially in the morning while you're trying to wake up. She also has the habit of nipping you if you don't pay attention to her yowling. Oh, she doesn't break the skin, but damnit, those little fangs are sharp. Again, in the morning, when you are trying to get your eyes open, she uses those tiny fangs on your nose. Plus she's got 'cat-breath...ugh. But, I love this beastie. I can't explain it, but I do love her. She gives me pleasure. I'm disabled and can't get around like I did when I was young'n, so having her resting in my lap and purring sooths me and relaxes this old musician. I must admit, the name Kilo is appropriate. She is a nervous beast and follows me around like a puppy dog like I'm her dealer. She talks and talks and talks like she's on meth and has golden eyes that are just slightly out of tune. But, God bless her, she's a good'n.