I’m still sitting exactly where I was sitting when I wrote yesterday’s post. Actually, it’s only been about an hour and a half since I wrote yesterday’s post, and I’m sitting here trying to concentrate on researching local farms and creameries for my new job and this behemoth cat keeps interrupting me.
This cat technically has a name that is written down on the very comprehensive sheet of things-I-should-know, but it’s on the counter like 30 feet away from me and I am not devoted enough to the cause to go get it, so I’m calling it Simba.
Except it’s a girl? Lady Simba.
For those of you not keeping up with the rest of the class, I’m housesitting for five animals right now – two dogs and three cats. One cat is apparently a hermit – he is, as far as I know, still hiding in the closet (that’s not a metaphor, you child). The other two are something-to-do-with-flowers-name and Lady Simba.
Petunia (or Daffodil, or possibly Sunflower), is one of those cats with a normal sized body and teeny dwarf legs. Like a cat weiner dog. Or a cat hamster. Or a cat mini horse. Or like a cat with a normal body and tiny short legs.
Lady Simba might be a mutant. I can actually hear this cat stomping around in the other room. I have already been startled by this cat creeping around the corner to stare at me a shameful amount of times. It is so big. You guys. It’s like being in a house with a small dog that’s actually a cat.
I cannot get over it. I even texted Varenka about it.
Which seems silly.
UNTIL YOU LOOK AT THIS CAT.
Then you’re like danggggg Lady Simba!
Am I right? (Hint – I am.)