I’m convinced that if there is reincarnation I should come back as a cat. My tortoiseshell colored cat named Essie, lives a live of leisure. I am her slave and the Border Collies are her entertainment. Essie’s day starts out with a tablespoon of Friskies fish flavored canned cat food, microwaved for exactly seven seconds. Not eight seconds as then it would be too hot and definitely never serve her anything cold as she will sniff the food, raise her tail and walk away in disdain. Her next job is to urge me to clean her litter box. I am rewarded with a meow, purring and rubbing against me as I scoop the poop. Lucky me. Then she reminds me to sit and read the paper so she can sit in my lap, purr and allow me to touch her softly. That is all the affection she allows me for the day, my quota of attention if you will.
The rest of the day she spends sleeping, following the dogs around where ever they are sleeping, unless there is a better spot of sun somewhere.
She likes to supervise me in the kitchen.
Essie shows up in strange places, like on top of the coffee table, in the closet or on the kitchen counter.
But at the end of the day I have to admit I love this little ball of fur even if her coat is like velcro on the carpeting, her litter box stinks and she tries to escape outdoors. How can such a little heart give so much love?