My husband and I visited the local animal shelter yesterday and found a three-month-old tabby that liked us as much as we liked her.
For the first two hours in our house, she ran up and down the stairs, explored every corner and cubbyhole, ran and jumped and played, smelled the flowers on all my plants, and purred a lot.
Every few minutes she'd jump in a lap and demand petting, then dash away for more exploration. She moved so fast I found it hard to take pictures. She'd be perfectly posed, but by the time the shutter clicked, she was on her way to some new adventure. I have a lot of photos like this:
At one point she checked out my Writer's Digests, then went for a short cut to the little ball on the couch:
And finally she found my husband sitting at his computer and claimed his lap for a nap.
Needless to say, I didn't spend much time at the computer yesterday or last night. I was busy reminding Katrina where I'd placed the litter box, where her food and water was, that "No" meant, "No scratching on the furniture...that's what this scratching thingie is for," and making sure she was only smelling the African violets, not eating them.
I even cleared space on my office table so she could get to the window sill and stare out the front window.
When I finally did sit down to write this blog post, she ended up in my lap, taking another snooze.