She’s got to be 15 years old if she’s a day.
I remember the day a very excited little girl picked out her tiny kitten from the litter of Aunt Betsy’s barn cat and that proud ride home in the car, with the kitten in a cardboard box on the Girl’s lap.
She named her too … Kitty-kitty.
Now she lives on my bed, only leaving it to eat, use the litter box, and drink out of the toilet bowl.
Kitty-kitty, not the Girl.