But, the Messiah has Whiskers

Naturally, after my last feline rant I find myself in the position where I have to take the reverse point of view.

Damn that collegiate debate program. Granted, it did pay for most of my college education, but now I am fundamentally incapable of sticking to one point of view.

The kitten (whose name is Asphodel) is now my hero. All the bad things aside, she is pretty damned cute. Adorable, really. She's learned to beg for milk, which is quite humorous particularly since everytime the refrigerator is opened she associates it with food. She flies around the corner into the kitchen, her tail curled like a shepherd's crook, and when she gives that pitiful little 'meow' I can't help but give her milk.

Then, when it's nap time there are only two places she likes: the top of the monitor or my lap. That's irresistible.

Then, when I go to bed, she knows it's bedtime. God love a kitten that knows when to go to sleep.

But, most importantly, a story that Asphodel inspired (she was chewing on my ankles, as I recollect) was sold today to Jupiter World Press.

ALL HAIL THE MIGHTY KITTEN MESSIAH.

In the name of the Kitten, the Cat Toy, and the holy LIttle Friskies.

Amen.