Miss Megs, showing tufts, having fun

Miss Megs, feeling very relaxed. (The cloth carrot is stuffed with primo catnip.) She loves her fish: she likes to sit on it, or sometimes lie beside it and hug it, and yes, sometimes scratch the hell out of it. (It was not so fuzzy originally.)

Critical eyes with note the need for brushing. Tell Megs. If either of us takes brush to her… well, you’ve never seen such wrath. *Achilles* was not so wrathful as Megs, nor (I would bet) so pointy and sharp. Neither The Wife nor I can approach her. So when she sits in my lap I try to pick out tufts when I can. Sometimes she allows me to do a couple, but that’s it.

So I have a raggedy cat, but we’re definitely building a kit to take when the time comes to adopt a new kitten, and a brush will be among the test tools. (Also string, ball, etc.) A few years ago—my God, six years ago—I wrote a post on selecting a cat.