She is a local cat, living in Boyfriend's neighborhood. She possesses an extraordinary floofiness, but perhaps not the most extraordinary I have seen in my life. Her colors are gray, cream, orange and black. When she comes to visit, her tail is held high, and she walks on small, dainty paws.
She must be 10-12 years old, and she conducts herself with a certain amount of decorum as befits her age. She is a compact kitty; you can barely feel her little body beneath the knuckle-deep fluff. And we're not sure, but we think she doubles as a shag throw carpet:
She makes her rounds in the mornings, walking up and down the sidewalk, looking for a 'mark' to give her head scritches, nose beeps, belleh rubs and back strokes. Whenever she sees one of us she'll break into a dignified trot, meowing high and loud. Petting her can be a challenge, however – if she gets bored, and wants to liven things up, or if she's being scratched under the chin and it's a head pet she's requiring, she won't hesitate in giving you an imprint of her front teeth as a souviner. I was once petting her and got my rings twisted in her fur, and – well - let's just say, fangs for the memories.
She has such an attitude, that whenever she isn't out, I picture her in front of a roaring fire, reading Kafka or Joyce, and enjoying a mint cordial. She just has that Certain Look.
She is addicted to rolling over. No matter what happens to be close by: leaves, dirt, twigs…she will be Compelled To Roll. On finding a nice patch of sun, she'll walk a tight circle and suddenly flop over, with a tiny, audible, grunt.
All in all, she is eminently pettable. So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Frieda of North Hollywood: