It probably is something close to Nancy's 8th birthday. She was pretty certainly born in 2014, maybe around this time, going by the fact that she seemed to be a kitten around mid-year but the vet who desexed her said she was almost certainly older, just malnourished and stunted. We will never know anything about her birth, but on the plus side, who wants to know anything about a cat's birth?
There are a few things that remind me sometimes that Nancy is a cat. One is that she often cleans herself on the couch on this nice crocheted rug, and then she forgets where she ends and the rug begins, and she gets the rug caught in her tooth (or something). If she is really full-on doing that I usually pick her up and put her on part of the couch without the rug, an action she accepts entirely as her due and she just goes on washing herself. But it is a little depressing to me that she apparently has no volition when it comes to rearranging her circumstances: everything that is, is, unless someone or something changes it.
The other thing is that even though I tell her and Helmi that they have to become friends, they refuse to do so. It pisses me off. Though I was reminded (by a grody photo exhibition my phone made for me) that at one point they did bond over a toy where something that looked a bit like a mouse tail popped out of a unit. I suppose I should resurrect that and keep it going, though Nancy generally has a short attention span for new things.
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