This one’s not so much a guest as a foundling. I picked her up off the highway, where she was dashing to greet each passing car (looking for her owner, I expect, but clearly without a shred of street smarts). Fortunately all the drivers stopped in time and I was able to persuade her to jump into the KIA.
She’s got tags with her name, owner’s name, home address, and phone number, and you can see from her mirror-shiny coat she’s well cared-for. But nobody’s answering either the phone or the door at her house.
She’s made herself quite at home here, though. Found Ava’s remaining toys and and has been squeaking and shredding and playing keep-away and tug-o-war ever since. Also throwing all the cushions off the couch and trying to find the source of that enticing cat aroma. She’s either going full-tilt or collapsing into a dead sleep. One or the other. No in-between. The second picture there isn’t blurry because I’m a crappy photographer; it’s because she’s shaking that little stuffed monkey hard enough to “kill” it.
I confess that for a few moments out there by the highway I looked at her sweet self and thought, “This is kismet. The fates have brought me a little bully girl just when I was starting to think doggie thoughts again.” But the angel on my other shoulder reminded me that somebody out there loves her and will miss her soon.