The Cat From Michoacán

This little felid I've encountered has captured my heart.

Who wouldn't be able to resist her poor little cries at the top of her lungs begging for food?

Here she was just a baby, with her little dirty face and clueless expression. She doesn't know she's filthy.

She sleeps long hours. She works hard everyday to keep me happy and after all, many hours of downtime.

Oh, her precious little face! It breaks my heart when she squirms as I drop eye medicine onto her tiny eyeballs.

My toes cannot touch my forehead, but hers can.

Her feral stripes become cute polkadots on her pink belly.

She trains for air travel.

This tiny monster with teeth like needles and claws like something that's also sharp sleeps soundly in the second tier of the defunct fountain. She knows only playtime and not that of suffering. It's hard to find food here but when she's with me, nothing else seems to matter. She sleeps with me in my bed. We're going north in search of a better life. Best of luck!