Who's my Mr. Kitty...

Well, I believe it is time for the post you have all been waiting for -- some of you without realizing it. Yes, it's the Mr. Kitty post!

Everyone who knows me knows I love animals, and cats in particular. When I moved halfway across the country after college, I planned to adopt a cat as soon as I was settled into my new apartment. About a week before I would have done so, a cat adopted me. This scrawny (no snickers from the peanut gallery!) little calico was sitting on the staircase outside my apartment entrance when I came home one evening, and meowed at me demandingly. I won't say "befriended me" because that's not really her M.O. It was more like she decided to allow me to address her, take her in, and feed her. I posted a few signs around the community, and when no one claimed her after a few days, I paid the apartment's pet deposit and called it official.

Now, Anna (who, at the time, lived in the same apartment complex with her felines, Simon and Seymour -- and only them, no husband or kids) likes to think I named her Mr. Kitty because I thought she was a boy. Apparently this is amusing because everyone knows calicos are almost always girls. OK, I admit, I did not know this, and I did think she might be a boy, mainly because of how loudly she meowed. But -- I would have named her Mr. Kitty anyway. Those of you in the know are aware that she is named after Cartman's cat on South Park -- who is, by the way, a girl, as the Cat Orgy episode proves.

It's been almost seven years now. Mr. Kitty is decidedly less scrawny, but no less loud, demanding, or cute.