Liked to yowl and bring us things she killed. Like socks, and napkins, and sweaters. We called them Isis babies.
Liked to sit above me on a sofa back and groom my hair. FOREVER. Yeah it got creepy.
Liked to scream in the middle of the night in a manner that sounded exactly like someone howling my man's name. First night he slept over, nearly made him piss himself.
Really really hated the cone of shame. No really. A lot.
Liked when she was the least bit hungry to chase any and all creatures within bitch slapping distance. Her pimp paw would lash like a hurricane and the other cats fled from her while she chased them around and around our house. This continued until a continuous feeder was offered. The bloodshed lessened after that.
She was amazing and graceful and proud and loving. And she would kick your ass. And you'd thank her after. I've seen it happen. She even pimp slapped my bear once when she got mouthy, right upside the head. How many cats can you depend on for that, seriously.
I knew her 14 years. Smallest cat in the house, with the footfalls of an African elephant whom all the other animals respected and feared. Including us.
Requiem in terra pax. You gorgeous little evil.
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