She didn't get to eat much as a feral pregnant street kitten in 2010. I'd feed her cans of Bumble Bee tuna when she showed up and while I'd be out back fumbledicking with the backyard farm she would show up and sit on the deck. She'd stare at my old ass while I was pulling weeds on my hands and knees. And I knew it. I'd quit my work and get her something to eat.
Seven years later I'm still feeding her but now in 2017 she dines as a pampered house cat. This is the damned thing that will be head-butting me in the morning just before dawn for a breakfast. If I don't get out of bed in a hurry she'll walk in circles upon my groin and jump up and down too. And I could maybe catch paw swats (claws in) to my face.
Sweet from the street is the momcat Mister Mittens.
