After my alarm went off for about the fifth time, I finally decided to get up and stumble into the bathroom. Esme joined me, only she stumbled into the toilet. It was so funny, for me, probably not for her.
I don’t think I’ve mentioned Esme before so here’s an introduction. I pronounce her name is “Is Me.” So why not spell it that way? Because I’m sexy and I do what I want. Really it’s because I think the “E” looks cooler. I like symmetry, and I’m anal; I need the “E” at the beginning and end of her name because it matches.
I’ve had Esme for about a year. I got her last March from Animal Control. When I took her out of the box, she was so happy, she cuddled and climbed all over me for 30 minutes. She was so sweet and adorable. She followed me around for like an hour and even sat on the counter and watched me wash dishes. This was soooo my cat. Cuteness exuded from her.
You should be thinking two thoughts here.
- Aww, she’s so tiny. (She’s dwarfed even more by the Supersac Lovesac.)
- Oh my god, look at her eyes and ferocious teeth! She’s possessed!
Hence my cat with split personalities. Sometimes Esme is as cute as a button. She greets me at the door each day when I come home from work; she sits on my lap (only when I’m using the fairy blanket); she cuddles with me when I’m sad, and she even spends part of the night sleeping with me.
Other times the craziness comes out. She attacks my feet when I’m exercising; she bites my ear when I don’t feed her with 10 minutes of the alarm going off; and in the mornings she runs around like Speedy Gonzalez and thens she falls in the toilet.
I love that crazy cat anyways.