Friday catblogging
This is her. Lily, my favorite cat ever. I was fifteen when she showed up at our house, a brown tabby kitten with a dulcet meow. She'd come from who knows where, and she trailed the other two family cats, Stray and Basta. Basta was black and white and friendly. Stray was long-haired and extremely territorial; he hissed at Lily the minute he saw her. My family had owned lots of cats and one dog to boot. But Mom wasn't in the mood for taking the umpteenth stray cat. She told my brother and me to just ignore this new feline. If we didn't feed her or--God forbid--let her in, she'd go away. You can see where this is going, right? I'd already named her Lily. A sweet name for a sweet kitten. She wasn't white, of course, but she just looked and sounded like a Lily. One afternoon, Mom came home and said, "See? I told you the cat would go away if you didn't feed it. And look--no cat!" My brother and I looked at each other. "Oh. Lily....
