Snugliness, Thy Name Is Cookie

It seems hard to believe, but I now have a feline Frankenstein on my hands.

You may or may not remember Cookie. He is the cat I have been fostering since December of last year. Well, needless to say, after the emotional wreckage of "The Toby Incident", as it has become known in Zesty lore, Cookie is now a new and permanent member of our household.

He was just coming out of his shell when Toby came on the scene, and as you know dear reader, I was somewhat concerned that Cookie would regress once Toby had left, resigning himself to a life of haphazard kibble nibbling under the bed.

I need not have worried.

What a total suck.

No seriously.

I have never met a more snuggly cat in my life. He's a completely different animal now. If Cookie's an addict, cuddles are his crack.

I could see the change in his eyes, as if he was saying to himself "Hey, this cuddling-getting petted thing, it ain't too bad. I'll just see how this pans out." I am now a woman besieged. Morning and night, I must bestow my requisite affection upon Cookie. Exhausted, I must then tend to my other feline companions, all equally as demanding. In fact it's worse, with them. They're far more entitled than grateful.

Sigh.

As The Marine so aptly observed the other night "You know, Cookie once recoiled from me in abject fear. Now he holds me in absolute contempt."

"He's coming along nicely."