|I have this fierce-some look but I just want you to pet me.|
So my parents, through a series of what we might call cat-tastrophies, have ended up with (at least temporarily) another cat. Luckily, the cat is not aggressive at all, because Pushkin really wouldn't be able to handle that (although the last time I checked he was hiding under my parents' bed.) This chat noir has been named Winston and he's really quite nice. He's easy to sleep with (he mostly stayed in my bed last night) and he's very purr-y and nuzzly. And he's the appropriate color for a Halloween cat.
Pushkin doesn't seem to be doing so well lately. He's gotten a lot slower and just seems old. Poor kitty. We have this pain medicine which makes him feel so much better but it's simply impossible to get him to take it.
All of the cats are what we might call "tolerant" of the giant labradoodle. Somehow all the animals are in my parents' apartment right now. That's 16 feet plus whatever number of human feet are around at the time. And what is that, like 4(?) tails? It seems like more tails quite frankly. I'm going to have to go check.