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A MESSAGE FOR THE NEW YEAR 
Christmas always lasts a long time in my house. There's always packages to send that weren't sent; people to visit; more presents to to open; cats to scold for tearing up wrapping paper.... I have two cats; Natasha is like her name, small, lithe and mysterious. Boris is also like his name, just like the Bullwinkle character. He's black with white gloves, nosy and a living time-bomb. He's all ready knocked down a shelf full of knick-knacks, smashed my pottery garlic keeper and caught his head in the handles of a gift bag. The holidays are a special time for Boris. He dragged a piece of plastic wrap under my bed and insisted on sleeping there on top of it all night long. Every time he moved I heard crinkle, crackle, crink. Nor will he go outside if there is one snowflake on the ground, thus he can't roam outside and rid himself of some of his energy. Boris is also very cuddly -- and BIG. When he curls up on my lap, he hangs off both sides. This kitty has the biggest paws of any cat you've ever seen. My granddaughter, ten years old, said of him at first sight, "Grandma, he's got big feet!" He is, I believe, a Norwegian Forest Cat, known for their size. She's now nearly twenty-one and Boris is beginning to limp. He finds it difficult to jump up on the bed at night -- takes a couple tries. Sometimes age sneaks up on you. Natasha is still in her prime, quick and in good shape. She'll jump up on a chest and look down at Boris, knowing he can't quite reach her now -- Boris is something of a bully. Boris is like the old year, dragging to an end, full of memories both good and naughty. He'll be missed when he goes. He has certainly made memories, and in the end isn't that what matters? Marilyn
Aka: M. E. Kemp
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