Tuesday, August 17, 2010


Normally, you'd have a difficult time getting me to acknowledge a cat at all, let alone devote a whole post to one. It's not that I mind cats, it's mostly that I am highly allergic to them so I just stay away from them. In fact, before my allergies kicked in around 12 years of age, I was chief cat-lover in our house. I won't regal you with stories of Sam (the evil viscous first cat) or Harvey (the solemn loving beauty of a black cat) or Bert (the feisty squirrel-chasing bad cat...who subsequently DID NOT end up on a farm as I was led to believe for 20 years) but I will show you a couple of images of the only cat I currently acknowledge. This is Bif. He is kind of a man, not really a cat. He's my brother's family's cat. He's like the weird janitor-guy at a high school (Bif, not my brother) who would rather that you don't talk to him at all and he does his best work at night. Bif hides all day, he won't rub up against you keening for scratches, he's frankly above all that Cat-i-ness. BUT at night he kinda goes ballistic. It sounds like a 220 pound dude's running through the kitchen bouncing off the walls and knocking sun catchers off the windows. I'm not sure why but Bif appeals to me. You can like him or not, he won't care either way.

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