I'm sitting on my bed with the laptop on my lap (weird place for it, I know) wearing my sweatshirt (you all know the one, it's that thing that I wear every day during winter for the past 7 years) and Sasha comes up and tries to get into my pocket. Now, I know she's a small cat (although way bigger than Eek), but there's no way she's gonna fit in my sweatshirt pocket. She did successfully get her head into it, but not the rest of her body. Not that she's gonna let a little thing like that stop her. She laid down with her entire body sticking out, and her paws underneath my sweatshirt, and promptly started purring.
Matthew is so gonna miss her.
Ha!
He did buy me a pumpkin pie milkshake though. It was yummy.
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Maybe it's that gray cats feel like the middle kids... I mean, they don't get away with acting tense and angry like black cats and they don't get away with being dumb, but gorgeous like white cats. It must be a tough life for them...
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