Queen is 10 years old. She found me, while I was visiting my best friend Shannon’s apartment. She had been feeding this scrawny, vocal cat from her balcony. As I was leaving, the cat came up to me and started meowing and rubbing against my leg. I checked her out and found that she was wormy (as in worms coming out of her behind) emaciated and was missing half of her tail. But among all that, she was sweet and affectionate and I knew I had a new cat. I took her home, fattened her up, dewormed her and I’ve been hers ever since. Her favorite place to sleep used to be on my head. She actually indirectly tried to smother me one night, but my fiance pushed her off before I suffocated. But she meant it lovingly.
Nowadays she sleeps on the armchair.
She’s not as spry as she used to be, she’s a grump and she hates Trixie. But she loves me, no matter what mood I’m in or how I look. And the only man she has ever liked other than my Dad is Geoff.
Good judge of character, that cat.