Greetings!
Blogging is new to me; I sure hope I don't mess it up. Thanks to Victor Rook, who set up this blog and my website, http://authorbarbaracrowley.com/.
This morning, I spent about a half hour petting my senior cat, Spooky, who was sitting on my lap. I use a mitt designed to catch fur as you stroke your pet. It didn't help today. Spooky's fur normally flies, but it was amplified tenfold by the spinning ceiling fan. Mini-tornadoes of hair puffs took flight! (You'd think by now that I'd have learned to shut the fan off BEFORE I start petting her).
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Spooky came to me when she was five years old. Her previous owner told me that she is easily frightened (it's true) and that she does not get along with other cats or dogs. I am going to trust that last statement. My home was ideal for Spooky. One human + one cat = harmony.
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I have "senioritis." I am getting just like a grandmother who can't remember which of her grandchildren she is talking to, so she names them all. I blamed "senioritis" when I caught myself mistyping Scoot's name in the last paragraph. There's a reason for my confusion.
Before Spooky (who already knew her name), I had adopted Sweetie from a local no-kill shelter. This was a male cat with a girl's name. I named him that way because of his loving personality. Prior to Sweetie, I had Scoot. If you read Liberty's Scrapbook, (even if you haven't yet), she's another cat who earned her name (three guesses why). It was never my intention to name my last three cats with an "S"; Spooky will just have to forgive me whenever I call her SweetieScootSpooky.
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Until next time,
Barbara
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