Her favourite hang out in my old flat.

 

This is the cat I belong to.  Her name is CJ and if ever a pet deserved their own blog post, it’s her.    Her mother was the first cat to tolerate my presence, and her name was Cappuccino.  This was another nod to my love of coffee.  And the fact that her markings were like that of a capuchin monkey.  Cappuccino Junior has the same markings, only in gray, with an extra splotch on her shoulders.

CJ likes expensive food and shoes.  She does headstands.  And if she really likes you, she’ll do a headstand in your shoes.  She is a merciless flirt, and a magnet to those who wear black.  Anyone who comes to visit gets antihistamines when they arrive and use of a lint-roller when they leave.

She is psychic.  She knows the precise moment anyone is going to sit on the couch, and she races to get there first.  She usually wins.

If I’m eating, she will jump up and nudge the fork away from my mouth.  This sometimes ends in disaster, for her, when something lands on her head.  You’d think there would be a photo opportunity when that happens, but she is too quick for the camera.  She’s quick, but she’s also a poser.

Sarge is allergic to cats, but she has accepted him as co-human.  She even lets him disturb her reading.

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