Marlee is fifteen years old and has been with me for all except the first five months. In the cat-to-human-years conversion, Marlee is—wait for it—about 15 years older than I am. In other words, she’s considered “old.”
Accuse me of projecting if you like, but as long as I am in mid-life, so is she: I don’t know when either of our lives will end.
And she’s always teaching me something. This weekend, she showed me how to ride out the Nor’easter:
No comments:
Post a Comment