today is my dad's 52 birthday. happy birthday pabbi!
he told me today that on her way to break up a fight outside between kafka and another cat, stella was so riled up he thought she was going to explode. she runs down two flights of stairs, nearly mutilates his hand while he's trying to open the door, bursts through to the outside and literally stops dead in her tracks at the sight of a food bowl with some cat food in it that she glances at in her periphery. instead of going to the aide of her best friend, whose rescue she's been fixated on for ten fiery minutes, she proceeded to lap up his food and stare into space. my dad had to wrestle the bowl away from her and literally kick her in the butt in order to remind her there was saving to do. so she and kafka made up and chased the rogue gray enemy off the lawn. that dog.
have a good sunny sunday!
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