Currently there is one who resides with and is generally cared for by me and my progeny, whether she wants it to be that way or not:
Babette, the Killer Queen. She is 13, will be 14 years on May 1.
Yesterday, in a bout of trying to get good cat photos to send to the contest happening on Pioneer Woman's blog - see sidebar for a link because she's fun, and I'm being somewhat lazy about inserting one here - I took these and discovered Babette's current plot line.
yawn, no, intimidate!
i must kill you for waking me.
on second thought, yawn again.
seriously, go away.
i'm too old for this sh@*.
For those who recall my worry over her a while back, she seems to be doing pretty well for the time being, gained back some of the extreme weight loss, but there's still no indication of what was wrong besides the anemia due to the battle of the uberfleas, autumn 2009 edition. For the winter, she essentially took up residence on my bed, which is where these were taken.
By her reactions above, and the fact that I no longer feel her shoulder blades like actual blades is a good indication she's her old self now, just older than before.
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