I however, am not doing so well. I thought I could handle a little kitty-dating, a little casual kitty hook-up. Mr. Romeo, my balcon chaton, slipping through the window in the dead of night and curling up beside me, disappearing just as quickly in the morning. But, as you have probably guessed, I couldn't help getting my feelings involved, and now I miss him terribly.
Luckily, fate has brought me a older, wiser man to help me get over my little kitty vacation fling. A week after I returned from France my roommate Michelle adopted a 2 year old, as yet unnamed kitty. He is large, muscular, with the blackest of black fur and big green eyes (whatever his official name, I will nick-name him "bear", because that is what he is). Though he usually sleeps with her, during the day he sometimes curls up in my bed, and I can pretend I have my little Anderson back again.
|Kitteh in ma bed: Anderson and Bear.|
However, I will always have a special place in my heart for Anderson, the voleur chaussette.