As Viv and I left our dining tonight, bemused by the continuing foie gras protesters (yes, really and no we didn’t have any and yes, they were mildly annoying and made me want to order some but it was too mild an annoyance to generate a genuine backlash), we saw a kitty on the street and went over to say hi.
The cat is a longhair calico in the end of kittenhood, filthy and matted and starving. She (I think) ran away at first, then hungrily charged our hands for affection, and finally chased after us as we began to walk to the car.
So. If you have been neglecting the fuck out of your longhair calico kitten, she’s not dead. No, you can’t have her back.