Everybody wants to be a cat...

When I was young (between 5 and 10, maybe?) I had a thing about cats.  I really liked them, I wanted to have one, and really, I wanted to be one.  Cats have it MADE. There were at least two times where I KNOW that I "walked" around on all fours meowing...in public.  On purpose.  And let me tell you, an (old) asphalt parking lot is rather hard on the "paws," especially if you're wearing a skirt.

By college, I had outgrown the cat-crawling (mostly...), but the meowing...that was (and is!) here to stay.  My friends and I developed tactics for attracting each other's attention across multitudes of people, and mine, of course, was meowing.  Loudly.  More of a yowl, really, I guess.  Needless to say, that attracted some attention. And halfway through college, it attracted me an actual cat (in Earl's defense, he was a scared little kitten, it was dark and rainy, and my meow is really, really good!).

I don't use my meow as much anymore, since cell phones are so much more efficient...pretty much just to mimic and annoy our kitties.  Z, whose first word was kitty, was meowing long before he started using words.  He has taken after me in other ways, too...while he hasn't really done much cat-crawling, he has done this:


(age 2)

and this:

(age 2)

and this:

(age 1.5)

N, though...N is getting started even younger.  He crawls wicked fast now, and the other day he breakfasted on White Meat Chicken Florentine with Garden Greens in a Delicate Sauce.

Earl was not amused.

.