I Heart Logan a.k.a The Lil’ Lad Who’s Won Me Over

 

I am not a cat person. I detest the little suckers. They don’t acknowledge your presence. They crawl all over you when you sleep. Their litter smells horrible. And of course, they have a tendency to lightly layer any remnant of clothing with their fur.

I used to love cats… oh yes I did.

I had one named Poopsie, another named Tigger, a grey one named White Socks, one named Snow White and multiple adopted barn kittens that I loved, ecstatically observed, and played with in my young childhood. I don’t know where the turning point came. It may have arrived with my contraction of ringworm from little Hazel. It may have come with being traumatized after several of our adopted kittens got pneumonia and died. It may have sunk into me after being scratched one too many times. I honestly can’t place my finger on it, but I can say that I have fallen fervently into the “dog person” category for over decade.

Here’s the funny part.

I am in love.

I am absolutely, without a doubt, uncontrollably smitten with a fluffy little baby kitten. His name’s Logan and he is ADORABLE!

I can’t even remember ever seeing such a cute little creature. I just look at his little grayish-greenish-bluish eyes on his little grey fuzzball face and I get giddy and squealy. The little boy makes noises like the tickle-me-Cincinattii-zoo penguin. He gets his little noggin stuck in shoes. He’s fascinated by bottle caps and pieces of flannel. How can I not be enamored, fascinated, possessed into doing ridiculous things? I mean, I’ve been crawling on my hands and knees, talking in a baby voice, giggling uncontrollably, and watching him for hours without getting bored.

I love Logan. I’ve said it. I’ve converted into a kitty lover and now my family consists of three lovely lovelies: Geoffrey, me, and our little love child Logan. 

My loves Geoff and Logan