So when I was a kid, my family had a cat named MIss Purr. Born to a stray my late uncle brought home when I was four and lived until I finished my master's degree at 24. We used to shut her in the basement at night because otherwise she started bugging for breakfast way too early even for Mom, who was a classic morning person.
One summer, the family was at the cottage leaving me alone at home since I was working a fulltime summer job (I was probably 20 or 21). The cat didn't like travelling so they left her with me and only took the dog. I forget about closing the basement door one night. 5:30am. Meow. Like Mom, I'm a classic morning person but not THAT much of a morning person.
One summer, the family was at the cottage leaving me alone at home since I was working a fulltime summer job (I was probably 20 or 21). The cat didn't like travelling so they left her with me and only took the dog. I forget about closing the basement door one night. 5:30am. Meow. Like Mom, I'm a classic morning person but not THAT much of a morning person.
Miss Purr was not too evil of a kitty, but had a nasty streak where the dog was concerned. She was already 8 or 9 when he arrived and did not want to share. One day he was running around the main floor of the house, probably playing ball or something with one of us. He raced past the chairs at the kitchen table and a paw shot out and raked his back. The cat often lounged on those chairs but it was still a bit of a surprise for us and a big one for the the doggie.
