My mother had a sneaking suspicion that Tig might be hiding under her bed yesterday.
We lifted up the cover (just to be sure that there wasn’t some other orange, fluffy-tailed critter in my guest room). And found the culprit.
And then I chased him out of the guest room, where he’s not supposed to be. I’m trying to keep it mostly cat-hair free as I would like to have some guests who are allergic to cats. He seems to think the new bed is his. It is not. I paid for it. If he wants it, he’s going to have to go out and get a job and pay me back.
Tig.
Is.
Awesome.
(And he seems to know it, too…)
J.
How is he with Javascript?
Well, you could do what I’ve done with Ingrid when something like this comes up. You can explain in simple language, with lots of gestures, that although you value his company there are certain rules that everyone in the house has to follow and you expect her cooperation.
This will not actually change anything but may make you feel better.
On the other hand, Ingrid does put up with my invariable morning line: “Guess what we have for breakfast this morning. It’s your favorite–cat food.”
Tig’s gorgeous tail alone is irresistible.
Jay, he’s actually quite humble. Gracie is the one who knows how awesome she is.
But that tail of his… Tig plays with a yardstick (actually, he plays with just about everything). I was playing with him this morning and trying to get him to stand still while I measured him. The tail is about 14 inches long. Head to tail, Tig is about 31 inches. And he’s not quite eleven months old yet.
Amazing how they can hide 90% of their bodies and still leave their tail sticking out. It’s can’t be accidental. They’re flaunting it.
Tig’s a typical teenager, thinks everything belongs to him.
Eric, remember, Tig knows computers. But he has to find this one on and open and unattended to use it.