Breaking news!

I discovered today that Isabella is what's called a tortoiseshell-point Siamese. She's, like, official and not a genetic mistake or any of the other defamations I've suggested over the past 14 months. Please excuse us while we start booking our travels on the show circuit. In the meantime, read about cat genetics, and see photographic proof of Izzy's classification, here. Scroll down for the Siamese sample.

Also, this is disgustingly overdue, but above is a photo of the rascal from my phone. It was taken some time ago, but I love it. I'll try to get a current one up soon ... really I will. (If you think this forum is derelict, you should see how badly my other blogs suffer from neglect.)

Some developments: Izzy has stopped wearing a collar. I bought her a pretty new one, and she promptly removed it. She likes to carry her collars around and sometimes brings them to me so that I can throw them and she can chase them and bring them back. We also play fetch with wooden skewers and emery boards. I am not making this up. She selects her toys; I am but a vessel for her fun and games. Also, sometime in recent weeks she started using us as stepping stones. For instance, if one of us is, say, sitting on the porcelain settee in the lavatory, Izzy will jump up onto the sink, hop onto the back of the settee sitter, and maybe -- or maybe not! -- make her way up into the window sill. This works best when the window is open; we do not like the surprise of a closed window hidden behind the curtain of discretion. Similarly, if she's, say, on the table (which never happens! I don't even know why I used that example!!) and I, say, bend over to pick up a wayward item that needs to be thrown out or recycled (that actually does never happen, but you get the drift), she might just hop onto my back JUST BECAUSE SHE CAN. Kooky, kooky girl. But I do adore her. I do, I do, I so very much do.

Renovations

This is one of Izzy's many "forts" -- this one a box shaped like a tent. She likes to hide in there, but she also likes to chew up the cardboard, perhaps in an effort to create a peephole, or maybe she's going to put in sliding glass doors.

Bath time!

Homies & Mijos

This is my collection of Homies and Mijos as well as special guests from the Homies DogPound -- little grocery store vending machine toys that I decided to collect at 50 cents a pop. I post them here for your viewing pleasure because I need for you to know that Isabella knocked them from their perch, one by one, onto the floor over the course of a couple of weeks. I would present to you a photo of her committing this crime, but she has never actually given me warning that I should grab the camera. I'll hear her on the mantel and then all of a sudden, "Plonk." Bad, bad, bad girl. NB: The purple dragon and ninja are not part of the official collection. They just happened along and won their way into the gang.

Friends welcome

This is not Izzy, obviously, but she is a rather good friend of Izzy's. And she's darned cute. So please excuse Edie's intrusion on the Isablogga.

Spring, lovely spring

I am told that my precious little 4-year-old niece Cassie, who lives in Iowa and has a photo link to Izzy's blog on her Internet start page, asked recently if Izzy had gone to heaven, since her blog hadn't been updated for so long. Gracious! Time to update more regularly. I've been having some technical difficulties involving stubborn electronics but I will try to defeat them soon. Cassie, Izzy is still here, doing fine, and would love for you to visit her again soon.

It's all about the sprawl

Some cats like to sleep curled up in a little ball. Not Isabella -- if she doesn't have a leg hanging off the side or she can't otherwise stretch out, forget it.

Not a toy!

Izzy seems to believe this is a toy that we got just for her. It is not. The confusion may be a result of Nisse arriving on the same day that a gajillion pet toys and adventuring items arrived from an online order I'd placed. But this is not a toy. It's an actual living dog who is, at 6-or-so pounds, smaller than Izzy. We're babysitting little old lady Nisse for the weekend. Isabella is using the occasion to practice stalking, pouncing, swatting from perches, and general intimidation. Nisse pretty much trembles continuously -- whether or not a relatively large cat is slinking up behind her -- and doesn't seem too worried about it. She just wants to know when it will be her Special Day, i.e. the day she gets to go home to her Daddy Will and her Aunt Fernando.

Completely unamused

Isabella really wishes I'd cool it with the photos. Also, she doesn't usually look possessed like this (even though she is definitely possessed).

What could be sweeter?