how you get your cat to pose like that…………!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My sixteen-year-old cat used to do that when he was little, therefore his name: Edmund. He gave it up long before he hit his current size and took to riding on my shoulder instead.

POWERLESS (means no power–nothin i can do—Right?
Here we go…)
Be gentle to me, little frend–I am POWERLESS to
resist all your CUTENESS…POWERLESS…POWERLESS…POWERLESS (3 times
helps you lern a new word)…Heeellllpppp!!…Losing my gripe, here…Cute kitten deprivation is gettin me down…Gotta have kitten…Gotta have kitten…(trashin in agony…)Everthin is going
dim…KITTEN…KITten…
kitten……

Love the strong “M” marking across his forehead,the determined look on his face.

The whiskers! The eyebrow-whiskers! The tiny-kitten-claws! The BLUE EYES!

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Thud.

I thot JENNIE wrote this for us til I saw it was Mr. Blake…Thanks, Jennie
for bringing me this about TIGER in the night-I can feel like I know somethin now…Your an o-fish-al CO
MEN-TOUR for little dogs like me who got found in the street–HEY, your like
the lady who brings us the
RV fulla books from the library–Wish I knew where
MOM is–mebbe she would be
proud of her puppy–turnin in those books on time and in the best conditional I can…ROCK ON, MR. BLAKE!!
You are, like, FOR ALWAYS!

Tiger, Tiger, burning bright
In the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tiger, Tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
- William Blake (1757-1827)

Roxy, will you give Darby a little kissy from me? What a gorgeous baby! All my furry children are too big for this sort of thing.

Ooooh Kay00t!!!! And look at those lil weapons of mass destructions on that pawsie!

i had a kitty that would climb up my pants like that… so i named her squirrel