Sunday, July 09, 2006
I don't think I ever mentioned that I too have a cat. His name is Oliver. He is now 12 years old. He's an only "child", and he behaves like a spoiled brat. Just this morning he was playing with my knee, and then decided that I wasn't paying too much attention, so he hit me with one of the sharpest nails he has. I knew he wanted me to go to the kitchen with him, so he could had a snack from his dish. But I was busy minding my own business.
He does not care for my knitting stuff. He totally ignores the yarns, hooks that fall on the floor, the lazy bum. He is supposed to chase after the rolling ball of yarn, but no, he just looks. These pictures were taken when he was napping, and he was not too amused to be disturbed. Can't you tell?
Oliver sleeps most of the day, unless he decides to be a pest in the kitchen when I'm cooking.
Like all cats, Oliver loves boxes and here he is