Isobelle (her “you’re in trouble” name) + Izzy (my name for her) + Izzu (Chris’s name for her)
I haven’t really spoken about the love of my life, my kitty cat.
Like most cats she is a bitch and she never seems to like me much. She is terrified of thunder, so she slinks around the house crouched low. She spends her day sleeping and the night prancing around the house chasing her little toy mouse.
We adopted her when she was teeny, after she and her sisters were found in some warehouse, suckling on the teat of a doggie. So tiny, in my partner’s hands, in the picture below.
My partner had never had a real pet before, and he’s since melted into a puddle at her feet. She has him wrapped around her tail. She is beautiful. See her below? She looks beautiful, but she also looks guilty. That’s because she’s knocked over my herb box and sat on it.
She lets us kiss her head. Chris says he doesn’t feel right if he doesn’t kiss and hug her at least once in a day. She’s a source of humour and love in her house, and I just thought I’d share this baby on my blog because it’s my blog.