Furry Baby

Being home over Easter Break has me surrounded by furry friends. My parents have two dogs, Scrappy and Rocky, Jack Russell and Staffie crosses who both ended up in the local rescue centres before who got them. They also have a pond full of fish, a ton of plants, and also full time babysit my cat. A noisy Christmas present I’m sure my mother regrets buying. Tiggie, the cat, was named so as I was a very uncreative thirteen year old who had fallen in love with a kitten in Greece we has named Tiger. Of course, being a girl, I had to feminise the name for her.

She is my little baby girl, I do spoil her rotten. I’m very strict with treating the boys (the dogs) but the cat is a different story. I keep her treats in a drawer in my nightstand so I can treat her when I feel like it or, more often, so I can bribe her for cuddles. If I ever need to find her, I shake her treat box. She comes running (and yowling).

It’s quite sweet that when I come home, she will follow me around meowing until I go up to my room and sit down so she can sit on my knee and be fussed. It’s quite charming that she is also apparently very noisy when I leave home to go back to university, as if protesting the absence. I see her as my precious little one to protect. Hopefully, she sees me as somewhat of a loving guardian.

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