Sunday, February 9, 2014

rory

We have one cat.  Her name is Battie.  We adore her, and I have written a bit about her here.  


Apparently I have become a lady who writes about her cats.  Oh well.

We decided that Battie had her paws full with all the kitchen mice here, and really deals with quite a bit of unusual attention sometimes.


She was getting a bit overwhelmed.


You can see the stress, right?

And so, given our close proximity to the Animal Rescue League here which can be hard to ignore, and that we met a sweet little creature in need of a home when we were at the farm store for chicken supplies, we adopted another rescue cat recently.  We brought in backup for Battie.

We named her Aurora, as she came to us when there were apparently nighttime viewings of the aurora borealis, if perchance you did not live in a city of lights, and it was not completely cloud covered each night.

We call her Rory, or Rora.



She is quite a spunky little cat, so playful, despite her difficult beginnings.


She is an exercise in light, like a tan cat trying to escape from an outer coating of a black cat.  Molting.


And Elliott fell in love with her for her mittens, her unusually shaped feet.


She has a tendency to jump up and sit upon anything I am trying to take a picture of.  Photo bombing.  And so, one morning, I went with it, and found myself using her attention seeking to try to improve my photography skills, using the natural light and her textures and colors and fuzz.


The next day at school, Elliott wanted to show me what he was working on in his journal the previous day.  Apparently, he too, is taken by her coloring.  Trying to capture it.  In his own way.

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