This is my cat Twinkles. Here she is when I went up to her to ask about adopting another cat . .
Here she is pretending to consider doing me the favor.
Here’s her reply . . .
. . . Which means '‘No way in hell, you human lunatic.’'
Here’s her reply after I dared to ask a second time . .
So I went back to studying, and here she is appearing out of nowhere in order to judge me . .
So I then went to work on my laptop on the desk near the window, and here she is making sure I’m actually working and not looking online for cats to adopt . .
So she went back to sleep . . .
. . . Or so I thought, cuz here she is again checking up on me.
This is the most she’ll tolerate . .
My Twinkles (full name: Twinkles Happy Sugar-Socks) is the best. I love her sooooooooooooooo much. We’ve both had a challenging year and a half when this period of strange kind of luck began.
While I was asleep, my bedroom caught on fire. I woke up in my bed, surrounded by fire. It was an inferno. I was in deep sleep and the only reason I opened my eyes was because the fire had been burning my thigh, and the pain caused my eyes to open. I was more asleep than awake. Staring at the fire, it took me a while to figure out whether I was dreaming (my nightmares have always been this scary + felt no less than reality). I did what I would have done both in a nightmare and reality: somehow got out of the room, spent the longest two minutes of my life trying to get my little brother out of the other room (he was staying with me at the time), got the neighbors out, etc. The fire was a blessing in disguise and I’m grateful for the fire because what it caused was my brain to rewire itself. The way my brain works began changing that day, and is still in the process. Huge things that needed to be changed in the way I think and act are changing.
Every single thing I ever had was in my room, and then . . . still in my room I guess, but in the form of ashes. I started from scratch with the underwear and tee shirt I had slept in. I have never been upset about losing objects. And even the irreplaceable ones. Actually. this just occurred to me the other day: There are two types of things: replaceable and irreplaceable. But actually, it’s turning out to be that ‘replaceable’ things are ‘irreplaceable’ cuz I’ll never have enough money to buy them again. I find this interesting.
Last thing I have to say about the stuff, is that I always worked freelance online from home. I had to delete a lot of gigs, because the equipment (cameras, mics, materials, etc.) burnt up and I definitely don’t have $20,000 to buy everything again (I would take a loan to do so, but I have never received a lot of orders, nor orders on a regular basis–so It might take 20 years to earn back the cost of the equipment).
Well, I’m not sure if anyone is still reading this . . .
So I’ll bring this story to an end now (that was a nutshell–the story is much longer of course).
But, I will finally say my point: That me and Twinkles have been through a lot together. I was positive that she had died in the fire. After a week I had to go back to what was left of the apartment to check if anything was left. Outside, I called out her name just in case. And . . . her little face popped up from behind a bush. I could not believe it! She looked at me like ‘yo, wassup?’
Her forehead whiskers were burnt. But, otherwise she was perfect. She’s perfect.