This is Petey, who is being sulky along with our other two cats. They can't understand why I've been up 24 hours and it's upsetting their intensive napping schedule. I put the clock there because it makes the post feel more official.
Petey is the only cat we've had which did not come from the shelter. The story of how we got Petey sounds completely fictitious, though, so consider this a warning. I've had more than one person accuse me of making this story up. Trust me, I don't have this kind of imagination.
My dad died just before Christmas of 2000. A co-worker of mom's showed up at the house a couple of days later, accompanied by her little 10 year old daughter. The girl heard about dad and arrived with a teeny grey and white kitten to give to mom "so she wouldn't be lonely". When I was a kid, our family had a grey and white cat named Slipper, so the new kitten fit right in like Slipper 2.
The girl had named the kitten Patsy after Patsy Cline (the kid's got good taste) but after a day or so I wasn't sure Patsy was a girl. Pretty soon I caught "Patsy" licking himself and exposing something that girl kitties don't have. I joked around and said that maybe we should call the kitten "Peter" instead (get it? It's funnay!) Mom said, "Oh, Petey, that sounds like a good name!" A minute later she realized what I meant, and screwed up her face in a disappointed look only moms can perfect, but she stuck to her guns. Petey it was.
In 2005 mom died and my husband and I inherited Petey. He and Reggie are great friends and Petey is a real character. He will snark at you if you tell him to stop screwing up, and occasionally will bat at you if he's really upset. Of course, he's never scolded unless he's doing something wrong, like operating machinery without permission, but he still hates to be told what to do.