Etta

Etta is a lap cat. And right now she is resting on my stomach while my computer sits on my lap with her head and her paws draped on my left arm mid-type. We had to do some adjusting when she jumped in my lap to join me because I had intentions of writing about my past three days in Montessori while her intentions were to sprawl out to the satisfaction of her own comfort level without any regard to me. Okay, she just shifted and is now resting her head on my right hand while I'm typing. It bounces along with the movement of my fingers against the keys. Gosh, she's so funny. Have you ever seen a cat sleep on her back with all her legs and arms curl up in midair? Imagine a dog when it wants you to rub its belly and then change that image of a dog to the body of a black and gray speckled cat. There's Etta's daily sleeping habit. But if you try to rub her belly, as you would to a dog, she'll immediately claw and push your hand away. Although, you can get lucky scratching her upper chest early in the morning when she's just aching for attention and will take whatever she can get. She has eyes like the cat in Shrek that just melts your heart and makes you think she's looking directly into your soul. She's missing her bottom left canine tooth so when she yawns you can see the asymmetry of her mouth. My mom calls her Etta Bell because of the tinkly bell on her collar. Okay, now Etta has grown bored of her time on the hand-made Bounce Castle and has left the room. And now I sit here wondering why I wrote so much about my sister's cat? Oh, I know. 'Cause I love her.