I just came back from hanging out with my mom tonight, so I’ll post something Mom related.
My mom got a kitten when I was about 10 years old. Well, maybe I was like 11 or 12. Anyway, my mom got a kitten when my brother and I were in our formative middle school-ish years.
She was a cute little kitten with a spot on her tiny head that was both the shape and color of a peanut. That’s why we named her Peanut. Original, I know.
Peanut may have looked cute but Peanut had quite a
personality catality. She might let you pet her for about 5 – 10 seconds, no exaggeration, after which time she would promptly bite your hand. Every time. Then she would run away.
For a while she would growl at, then proceed to chase, her tail. A lot. Now, I don’t want to divulge any of Peanuts secrets too much but she may have been on anti-psychotic medication. I would have to jam a half a pill down her throat with my finger. I got pretty good at doing it, too, which is saying a lot for doing that to a cat that will tolerate you touching her for mere seconds, let alone jamming a foreign object in her mouth and down her throat all while pretty much sitting on top of her to make it happen.
Needless to say, this medical therapy did not last long.
There’s not too much more to say about Peanut today, except that if she were a Golden Girl, she’d be Sophia. Sassy, sharp-tongued, and not willing to deal with anyone else’s crap. That’s Peanut.