el diablo robotico (platypus) wrote,
el diablo robotico

This morning I got out of the shower and Moly was sleeping on the bed near my pillow. She does that a lot. She looked at me and stretched, without getting up, then started grooming herself with a great big snort. She's always making disgusting snorty spit-horking noises while she washes herself. "Snorty," I said to her. "You're Snorty McSpitmonger."

"Meow!" she said happily, and got up and bounced over to me for petting. She never just walks; she trots, bounces, sometimes gallops loudly on the berber carpet downstairs. Moly is eight pounds of crazy on a seven-pound frame.

Moly is also a great conversationalist. All you need to say (or whisper) is "Meow," and she'll respond with great enthusiasm for as long as you care to keep it up. With her little tiny raspy voice, sometimes she opens her mouth and nothing comes out. Which leads to one of those jokes that never stops being funny (at least if you're six years old like me):

Me: I had a conversation with Moly today. You know what we talked about?
Ken: ...
Me (whispering): Mew!

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