It was my day off and I had been running in and out of the apartment. Now evening, I was leaving. Again. My cat with a look of sadness, anger, and doleful dismay watched me walk out the door. I left anyway.
During that evening I stopped at HEB, feeling mighty guilty over leaving Myrah lonely I decided to buy her a present. Presents were typically canned food. Since she first came to live with me, toys hadn’t really appealed to her. She ignored the ones given to her, only to occasionally go after the items that came into her path. Eventually she started to like a cheap, little stuffed fish available in bulk at Tomlinson’s Pet Store. Only that one toy with the glittery scales could ever catch her imagination. That evening, even though I was very familiar with the cat’s preferences, I walked past the canned food and stood in front of the measly selection of toys.
I purchased one, took it home and gave it to my cat.
Playtoy was an instant favorite. Playtoy was all-over feathery with a green tail and a yellow head. Its whiskers were multi-colored cloth and its “eyes” black. All of this combined, left it an unidentifiable creature. They had the most amazing fun together. Playtoy could fly so high in the air and slide so far on the wood floors. Playtoy could hide under the cabinets and spring out in attack. Until one day it fell apart. Its tail lay in the hallway, its head is still missing.
By the time I realized Playtoy would be the one toy to be played to death, the grocery store was sold out. I’ve searched every pet store and searched online many times. Like so many pet parents before me, unable to find the perfect toy I went for quantity. Myrah likes them all well enough, but none of them are Playtoy. They remained in such perfect condition that they all made it into her Christmas stocking again this year.
…and we still have our skirmishes
It’s a Crooked Gingerbread Pineapples Christmas
So when I say, I have become a fan of a frosting that is not chocolate and is not ganache you know this is serious. It’s Cinnamon Frosting — buttercream or cream cheese — it has topped my cakes and my cupcakes. And I willingly lick it from the knife every time.
I might still, should the need arise, eat another frosting and it might be okay. But it is only Cinnamon Frosting I look forward to making. (Well, there is still ganache, but that’s a very different frosting.)