It's no secret that I like cats a lot. Particularly this handsome little man:
This is my kitty Moses, who was born under my bed on Good Friday 1993, begotten of Mitten the Kitten (who we just called Mitten after that, because while at first we couldn't tell if she was pregnant or just fat, Moses answered that question, and she was definitely not a kitten anymore). He is such a gentleman and I love his tuxedo and little white paws. He likes to be held like a koala and burrow his face into your neck. He enjoys sitting on his corner of the couch and watching what's going on in the front yard. Moses doesn't really meow much, except when he is hungry, but he does make quacking noises, like "mrak!" and "mraw!" When he's trying to make you think he's hungry he makes these really pitiful long moaning noises that I guess you'd call meows. But trust me, it's not hunger. His dish is usually half full and he's just getting anxious about running out of food in six hours.
So if you did your math, you know that Moses (or Mo-Mo, or You Big 'Mo--hee) is 16. Kitty is sick, and it has me bummed out. He's got advanced leukemia and this condition that makes his head shake and him think the room is spinning. Poor kitty.
Kind of a downer, but I just wanted to share his handsomeness with all of you because he's been on my mind a lot. I'll get to see him this weekend when I go home, and I have a feeling it will go an awful lot like this.