Today, Chloe is helping me write the blog. Chloe is my second-youngest cat at age 4, and she is peculiar:
We adopted her as a kitten from the Humane Society — she was the one who spent her visit climbing all over me, so we knew what to expect.
The kitty we nicknamed “Itty-bitty-bitty-bitty-BABY-BABY girl” has grown into a chubby adult. She sits with me when I’m in my writing spot (a loveseat in the living room) or sits nearby, looking out the window. Often she asks for attention so it takes longer to get things done.
I’m trying to figure out what to write today (if anything). She is not helping any, choosing instead to sit on the back of the couch and read over my shoulder. Just now she ran toward the stairs for no real reason at all.
I guess I’ll just write on my own, then.
Words Like Me 