Grass Leaved Golden Aster-Silkgrass
Miss Chloe is a couch tater in disguise...she's determined in her stubborn tri-color way to outlast my going-nowhere attempts to force her off her sweet tush and exercise that sore leg that's slowly stiffening up as I type this out. Does she remotely even give a hoot...I seriously doubt she minds being waited on hand and foot for the rest of her wonderful and my miserable life.
She's waiting for her plate of grub to mysteriously scoot closer to her drooling mouth...she's perfecting that mournfully wide-eyed pleading guilt creating stare that would melt the center of an iceberg...she's such a shit. I'm ignoring her, hum hum de hum hum...will that plate of vittles disappear by morning? I'm wondering if she will cave in, or will she opt instead to wither away into a wrinkled prune and come back in her after-life to remind me forever that I'm a very mean lady.
I'm truly wishing I didn't always need a cat in my life, especially the ones who don't always need a human to love. I asked for a Siamese, you know...a people lover breed. I got skitzo kitty...the feline that walks alone. I'm not going to forget this Santa...not on your life. I've hired a PI to track down that true address of yours. You can already start counting the days before Christmas, and that box with holes that will arrive on Christmas Eve. You do like calicoes...don't you?