She does this unbelievably sweet thing where she snuggles down and puts her little cold wet nose against my arm, like, “I’m just gonna rest my eyes.”
She fell two stories onto concrete as a jumpy, feral kitten, and when she shook it off, she was in love with everyone and everything and sounded like a pigeon. She’s a sweetie. To quote one friend, “I love her. She’s like a perfectly pure soul.” To quote another: “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about your old retarded cat.”
I have a friend who refers to people (or other things) with particularly pure souls as unicorns. I think your cat might be a unicorn.
