In Charlottesville, I lived with a gorgeous and fiesty little kitten named Krissy. She loved ice cubes, hide and seek, and eating everything.
Living with animals is truly an adventure. She would go to sleep on my face at 3am, purring sweetly, and other times she would flip out and bite. I think kitties all have PMS. Or MPS. Or both.
She was not graceful. She’d pounce her tree house, miss, barely regain herself, all while making weird trilling noises. Once I waved a towel in front of her like a bull fighter and she quacked at me.
Krissy and her buddy Percy. She liked to carry him around, loved to play fetch with him and of course, cuddle him.
Krissy and “uncle” Milo. She tormented him so much she got kicked out of his house! She was originally Trevor’s mom’s cat.
Krissy’s romance with boxes: