Ah, cat writings! Snowball keeps trying to type for me, but he does a poor job of it, having paws the size of a small dog. He keeps growing in an alarming manner - I'm nervous he's some kind of fairytale cat that will turn out house sized, or eat the neighbour's Saint Bernard or something. Of course, a lot of him is fur.

At the same time I had the speckled cat, I also had his dad, a large and gentle tuxedo who was too intelligent for his own good - always over-thought situations, hesitated too long and made the wrong decisions. Brought a full grown raccoon home as a friend once. Moving was stressful for him. he didn't like being in the dark, so he would stick his head up out of the box, look out the car window, and immediately go cross-eyed, his gums would turn pale, he'd begin to pant raggedly, and then sort of 'faint' back into the box. Ten minutes later, up the head would come again...