Wed, 14 Apr 2004
Kim Kazan came into the office one Friday and asked if anyone wanted a cat; one had wandered into the Clark the Locksmith on Washington St. earlier that day. I was about to fly home to Iowa, so I told Kim to keep me in mind but didn't give it much thought.
When I came back on Monday, Kim asked me if I would still take the cat. She didn't want her because she was too cuddly. How could I pass up an affectionate lap cat?
I went to her house after work to pick up the tiny creature; she immediately ran out the door and we spent a good twenty minutes trying to catch her.
Once I got her home, though, she was all love and sweetness.
She got her name after she sauntered over to the doorway with her little pink collar and looked at me as if to say "yeah, I'm cute. You know it. You love me already." And I immediately thought of Manet's Olympia.
Most people, though, thought I named her after Ms. Dukakis. Or the beer.
I was, indeed, smitten. It was the paws that did it--she has extra toes on her front feet that I swear are thumbs. It was kitten-love at first sight. She's my little pal. She sleeps with me, she follows me to the bathroom, she hangs out while I eat breakfast. I tend to talk about her a lot. Luckily, most of my friends are cat people, and they understand.
Ah, kitten-love.
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