|The most flattering picture ever taken of either me or Lily|
Lily here is my little girl. You love to hear back story about my cats you say? Well!
I rescued Lily's mama, who was this gorgeous Tonkinese stray that wandered our neighborhood, when I was in high school. I named her Rowan, after this book (word of warning, I'm a geek), and then promptly gave her to my ex-husband (then boyfriend, of course). Rowan grew strong and plump over the next few months. So plump, in fact, that on a lovely day in August, Ms. Rowan had kittens in his closet. Oops.
Not one of the six kittens was Tonkinese, but five were tuxedos, and one was a butterscotch. Three of them were manxes, and three were long-haired. Cat genetics befuddles me. Anyway. This is how a Lily (full name Lilith Damia -- I did mention the geek thing right?) came out of a beautiful Tonkinese. She looks nothing like her mother (and thank God has nothing of her foul temperament), but does have a distinctly Tonkinese meow and cackle. Yeah. This one cackles when she's happy. It's freaky.
Lily's never been a lap cat. Once when she was about 2, and I got very, very ill with a stomach flu, she showed her support by ripping a hole in my boxspring and curling up underneath the bed for multiple days. I was a bit delirious, and really got freaked out when my bed started meowing.
Now that she's getting a bit more mature (she'll be 8 this year), she enjoys throwing herself across my dad's lap, but only if he has a large book or newspaper spread on it. So it was much to my surprise, when I was having a particularly awful day, that she decided to crawl on me, sprawl out, and sleep for an hour. I chose to sleep with her, since she wouldn't sleep unless my hand was under her chin. It was extremely restorative and I felt much, much better than I had, or otherwise would have.
Lily's going to have to stay here when we move to Ohio, and I'm tremendously sad about leaving her. But she's happier here with other cats to play with, and my father to dote on her. I also really despise litter boxes, so it works out in the end. That also means I won't be doing too many cat posts, so you can chill out.
P.S. Oddly enough, Mali, our other cat is also a long-haired Manx (also known as a Cymric). Two cats, no tails. Weird.
P.P.S. I'm pretty sure it's really weird to postscript a blog. Whatevs.