Made the mistake of starting her young:
When girlfriend comes home with a kitten peeking out from her sweatshirt and tells a barely-believable story of hearing a noise under the hood of her car at a shopping center (in front of the pet shop she'd visit weekly to play with puppies) and says "what do we do with this?" What do you do?
You take the kitten to the vet. When she yowls the whole time you name her in honor of tropical storm Gabrielle, which coincided with the kitten's birth, and because the cat is obviously gabby.
Except Gabs was just hungry, not gabby. She'll converse with you, but in ladylike eeps and mrrts. She won't say a word before leaping on your back, even if you're just the petsitter, or if you're another cat on the bed before she pins her ears back and pounces.
Gabs owns the bed. She'll share with people, no problem, if you don't mind being woken in the wee hours by purring and stropping. On occasion she'll deign to share the bed with other cats, but they never know when she'll turn on them. When Gabs is seen with orange fur between her pads it'll usually be weeks before anyone else dares to get on the bed. If you're passing through the bedroom, make sure to greet her. Say "Hello Gabs," and she'll say "mrrt" and the day's most meaningful conversation will begin.
Tags: cat critter gabrielle
Current Mood: mellow