All About Aggie

 

I was just looking through some of our old pictures (old as in, from 6 months ago...) and realizing how much our little kitty has grown. She was so tiny when we got her! Now she is pretty much full-grown and has definitely developed a personality of her own.

She loves attention and being pet, but only on her terms. If you pick her up and she doesn't want to be held, be prepared for lots of wailing.

Of course, when she really wants attention it's usually pretty obvious. 

For some reason unbeknownst to us, she loves being snuggled in sweatshirts. Preferably while someone is wearing it. 

And hiding in backpacks.

She is the self-elected Beverage Inspector for our home. I can't count how many times I have come back to my cup of coffee only to find a cat hair floating in it. Eew.

But with a face like hers, it's really hard to stay angry at her for too long. 

Even though I named her after my favorite author, Agatha Christie, she rarely responds to that name. So we usually end up just calling her Kitty.

I am pretty positive that no other living creature looks as cute while sleeping. 

So that is All About Aggie. She has no idea that she is being featured on this blog today and is in fact blissfully sleeping by my side as I write this.

A Day in the Life of Agatha

Agatha is slowly adjusting to life here in the Marx household. And we are slowly adjusting to life with a small furry "child."

When I first met the kitty that I would take home, she was completely silent except for a few angelic little "mew"s. But almost as soon as we got into our house that evening, she started up the most awful racket and has hardly stopped since.

I kid you not. We feed her, we love on her, we try desperately not to kick her as she follows our feet everywhere we go, and yet she CONSTANTLY meows. She has a wide range of meows as well. Some seem to say "I'm here, don't forget I'm here," while others protest against some horrific trial she is undergoing. Like when I go into the bathroom and shut the door so she can't follow me in and start licking the toilet (ew). The other day I went to take a shower, and all I could hear the whole time was her loud wailing at being left alone in the hallway. Poor, abused little kitty.

At night, we put her in the second bedroom (I have some slight allergies, so we try to keep her out of our room at night), and she usually gets up every hour to wail and moan, and stick her paws under the door so she can scratch it from the outside.

And yet, there are times when I will be sitting on the couch, and she will come up and just curl into a little fluffball on my lap and start purring. The cuteness slays me.


I'm looking at this whole experience as mild preparation for having real, skin-covered children someday. At least now, when Aggie wakes me up at 3 am I can put earplugs in and go back to sleep. Sigh.