My 17.5-year old cat, Calamity Jane. She's old, strange, and willful as hell. I love her more than I knew was possible when I got her all those years ago. I was reading this morning, and she came and stretched out over my arm, between me and my book.Isn't she cute?
As she's gotten older, she gotten really insistent about being able to sit right on me or my husband, even in summer time. The only thing that makes an acceptable substitute for sitting on her people is the heated cat bed we bought her for wintertime, and sometimes she still prefers a quilt-covered human lap to the sheer bliss that is the cat bed.
She's been with me since just a couple weeks after I got my first place alone. I've had her now almost as long as I hadn't had her. She's outlived two other cats I got not long after I got her, and she really loves being an only kitty. I promised I wouldn't get any other cats until she's gone. I can't imagine a life without her in it.
I'm glad she's healthy for her age; she's a huge part of my daily happiness.
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