Morning at the Mirror
As you grow older, things and money and earthly pleasures begin to lose meaning. You begin to unders...
Cleo
That look, the intense glare of Siamese blue eyes. If looks could kill . . . truth be told, her coat is fur, not hair, soft as mink, and the most lovable and sensitive creature I've known. You wouldn't know it the way she looks at you sometimes.
Cleo (Cleopatra) was a rescue cat. She had been abandoned on the back porch of the clinic with her three day old kittens, too starved to run away and very nearly dead. Our other master, Nefertiti, never got along with other cats, but these two seemed to fit together.
There is no understanding cats. There is only the symbiotic relationship we build with them.
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