Happy birthday, Maggie!
Ten years ago tonight, Maggie became a Coffey.
Maggie spent her first two years living the feline version of “Oliver!” — forgotten, ignored, left to fend for herself in the apartment of a wanton woman. She came home with us on March 17, 1996, and her life changed for the better. She was finally happy and spoiled rotten — playing fetch, flirting with Paul, acking at birds, gobbling down tuna, running the show.
The grand dame of bitchy kitties, Maggie has personality, attitude, intelligence and a real joie de vivre. She rarely forgives and never forgets. But if she loves you, you're blessed. I aspire to be like her one day.
Happy birthday, Maggie Cat. It’s been a great decade, and Otto and I would be lost without you.
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Labels: Maggie
6 Comments:
May she live to be a hundred. In cat years.
Yeah, I hope my Maggie lives to a ripe old age; she keeps Otto and me in line.
Charlotte's cat is 23. I'm not kidding. Her family got it in 1983 and it's still alive and kickin'. It's got no teeth but otherwise...
yeah paul, you kitty may drink from the tap, but maggie drinks from the squirt gun! maggie is a wonderful kitty... from a distance.
If only she had thumbs she would us that gun against you!
Dan's just jealous because Maggie doesn't love him anymore. The girl does NOT forget.
Paulie: Get some pix of that ancient cat for the family blog.
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