Still crazy Moo Cat after all these years

One of the things I love about Moo Cat: she’s so charged up, so head-strong, so full of life. . . Like when I first show up in the morning at her feeding spot, she’s so happy to see me, she comes running at me full speed. Rubs against my ankles over and over. Jumps up on my pants leg, jumping for joy. Then when I go to dump the cat food into the food dish, she bulls her head right into the middle of the dish. Like she’s so eager to eat, she can barely wait another second to pounce on that food. I often have to try to nudge her head out of the food dish so I don’t dump the food right on her head — no easy task because her neck is as strong as a bull, and she’s persistent in her mad strivings. Finally, she attacks her food (which is a sight to behold in itself). . . Then, when she’s finally done eating, she saunters over to me and climbs up on my belly. She’s finally calm, relaxed, satisfied. Her face usually has cat food smeared all over it — like a baby after a feeding, with it’s face smeared with baby food. Which is strangely endearing, even though she’s such a mess and looks like a clown. Then she leisurely and meticulously grooms herself until she’s returned to her natural state of beauty. Then, finally, she curls up and closes her eyes and purrs with satisfaction while I pet her. . . So she goes through the whole gamut of emotions.

This morning I had an odd thought as I gazed at her crazy mug. I created her, in a way. If I hadn’t fed her mother, Blondie, when she was a wee feral kitten, Moo Cat probably wouldn’t have existed in the first place. . . On the other hand, Moo Cat has her own individual soul that is completely separate from me. And she was meant to be here from the beginning of time. So there’s that, too.
Moo Cat.

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