We were rescued from a local shelter when we were just 3 weeks old. We're a funny looking group: super thin and long-legged, kinda like feline greyhounds. Our foster mom kept trying to fatten us up by feeding us and feeding us and giving us worm medicine (thinking maybe we had worms and that's why we didn't gain weight). She just didn't understand that we're naturally lean kittens. I think she wishes she was thin like us. Not a chance.
I'm the beautiful tabby of the group. I love to explore: I make a bee-line for the closet as soon as that door is open, cuzz that's where the bag of kitten food is kept, and if I'm real quick I can tip the bag over and nibble a few bits before my foster mom says "not again". That must mean she's proud of me, I just know it. My other trick is to dash into the kitchen for a quick reconnaissance when I've got a chance; then my foster mom picks me up and snuggles me and tells me not to do that -- she's a softie. After all that exploring, I need a nap, and like to curl up with Imogene, or Cooper, Cissy, or Chrissy (it's kinda hard telling those black and whites apart).
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