Hazel the Basil

Hazel is my 7 year old bob-tailed tabby. I picked her up at an animal shelter in College Station, Tx. I had no intention of adopting another cat that day, but here she is anyway:

That day at the shelter all the other kittens were snuggled up in large litters in their cages. Hazel was in a cage all alone. She stood with both front arms thrust out through the bars of her jail screeching to be let out. As soon as I opened her cage she jumped lightly onto my chest, snuggled herself under my chin, and started to purr. She came home with me that day.

As soon as she got out of the carrying case, she hopped into the litter box and had a pee. Then she took a few crunches of Nero’s kitten chow, looked me fully in the eye, and walked off to do her own thing. From that point forward, she had almost no use for me. Perhaps once a day she’ll sit close to me and talk in loud meows, and allow me to pet her for about 30 minutes. She has only settled on my lap twice in her entire life. She does do that thing where she looks me in the eye and then blinks slowly, opens her eyes and looks back at me. I interpret that as a form of kitty love. If allowed in the bedroom, she’ll sleep a few feet from my head. I often find small lizards and bugs in my shoes that she has placed there.

All of my pets have nicknames. Her’s include Hazel Basil, Hazel Marie, and Hazel Von Pissyface. Please don’t tell here about the last one. God knows what she’d put in my shoes.


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