Jabber

Her name is Jabber because she talks a lot. Yes, I have three cats now, and yes, that's my no-seriously-i-mean-it hard limit for cats. I had two and that was fine, but then I drunkenly agreed to take a kitten from a softhearted friend who let a pregnant stray in the house. Then, later, when I could have pretended to not remember this bargain... I reaffirmed it.

Long story short, meet Jabber. She is very cute and much nicer than the other two.



The ugly plaid blanket was keeping my legs warm - you can see this very laptop to the right of her head. (Macs rule, Windows drool. Or something.)



Monday I took her off to the vet, bright and early, for her spay. The two boys were very upset that she'd disappeared - the slightly retarded tuxie was especially yowly, and the longhaired standoffish jerk was affectionate. Monday afternoon I went and picked up Jabber, then got stuck in the world's worst traffic jam, then stopped at Petco for some Solid Gold wet food for her and Chic-Fil-A cause it was Funder's dinnertime - long story slightly shorter, Jabber was gone from the home for ALMOST 14 HOURS.

When I walked in with her in the carrier, the longhaired one freaked out and started hissing. He's been hissing at her ever since. He has no idea who she is or why she's in his house.

Jabber, of course, knows exactly who she is and who the boys are, and she is supremely unimpressed by the hissing.

Cats are weird, yall.