This is Indie. Or so we called her. We had her for only a week. I miss her, but it was admitted by both Joe and myself that she would be better off with a family who had a yard and a 12-year-old. She ruled, besides the “Eating of Joe’s Beard” instance. This morning, my half-awake brain thought she was crawling into bed with Joe and I. Pang of heartache? Yes, indeed.

Joe to me.

Joe to me.

Again, Els rules. 

Again, Els rules. 

Lilly. The good, grey cat.

Lilly. The good, grey cat.