Just a little more Leslie

A few more pictures of Leslie (that had to be scanned, thus the delayed posting)

When I first brought Leslie home, I also had a big old boy named Zeke. They got along famously.


Playing with a slinky


Even though this picture was taken 18 years ago, I know exactly what came next: she launched herself straight at my chest. Once she did this when I wasn't paying attention. Because I didn't put my arms up to catch her, she caught herself. With her claws. In my chest. I never forgot to catch her after that.


Perched on my shoulder



And perched on top of a door


In case we wondered who the Christmas presents really belonged to. This photo was taken in the apartment on Geary, after we moved back from Oregon. That's the place where Leslie suddenly decided to start using the toilet. We kept noticing that the water was yellow, but figured it was a plumbing problem. Then one day Theresa heard tinkling and caught her in the act. She stopped doing this just as suddenly when we moved. Who knows what lurks in the minds of cats?


Leslie, the effective communicator in her ultra-adorable-petter-beware pose. When Leslie was about a year old, my mother agreed to watch her during a vacation. Leslie balled herself up like this and when my mother bent down to tell her how cute she was, Leslie whacked her, claws fully extended. The next time my mother came to visit she brought a pint of Ben and Jerry's, which she shared with Leslie. They got along just fine after that.










Reining supreme in Oregon


With Ella in the sun