Animals and Tendedncy to Scream

Let me tell you a story about a cute grey scaredy-cat:::

Last Sunday at about 11 o'clock pm I was at my music/russian/sewing/awesome person teachers house and she has a cat. The cutest cat you could eva have. A beautiful grey longhaired cat with dull blue eyes that seem crosseyed. She thinks she's a siamese. Her crossedeyes tell us that.

But she despises me. I was drawing min my notebook that one of my friends gave for my bday along with some awesome gelpens, feltips, and c-pencils when i figured that i needed a normal pencil. I went into the officw where I knew there were pencils. There was Muska (MYOO-ska) the cat (her doctor called her Moose), and she wsas so scared a my arival she ran into the other room and crashed into the backyard door, knocking off some of those straight-clip-on-curtain-thingies. I screamed. What else could I do? I'ma screamer. I scream at almost everything. If something scares me, I scream. And I mean SCREAM. My mom and Olya (Olga is her real name, but that's what I cal her) my music/russian/sewing/awesome person teacher (who are also best friends, despite the fact that Olya is almost the same age as my grandma) were also scared, thinking that my scream was a dog's bark. Olya calmly stood up from the table where they were drinking coffeeeeeee (YUM but im not allowed to have any. D; )) and fixed the straight-clip-on-curtain-thingies. My mom was amzed and I was all like. 0_o. I'm not kidding. I wsa frazzled. As said before, I'm the type that screams. I got my pencil.

A couple hours later when Olya was assisting my mom to her car to say good-bye I stayed indoors- I was spending ht weeks at Olya's. My pencil needed an eraser. I went back to the office, where Muska was waiting yet again. I scred her yet again, but instead of flying into the straight-clip-on-curtain-thingies she ran into the side of the old oak piano. Olya came back, in order to see me, laughing hysterically, and Muska, who had her dull blue eyes intersified with huge pupils, and her posture similar to a mouses. She was creeping along the ground, snidding around, and stepping carefully, her eyes flicking back and forth. She was that way all night, and even a little bit the next morning. What a cat.

I got my eraser though. And while I'm typing this I'ma t Olya's house. Yet again. And the cat won't even come into the room I sleep in. Poor Muska. Now she hates me FORE-eVAA.

Ahwell.

There'll be more Muska stories on-demand or not now. Cuz I'm having fun describing Muska stories. What a perfectly crazy crosseyed cat.





FURRYYYYY