In My Face

It is good and proper to lie down and rest after working hard, as long as there is a cat handy. This is Maguire, one of the five I'm minding for my friends while theyre out of town. I thought his housemate Fenton was a self-assured affection hound, but in comparison to Maguire, he's a shrinking violet. He doesn't let it suffice to curl up against my neck or to sleep on my chest. He will colonize my eyes, my cheeks, and my mouth.

His sister Molly has already been adopted out, and Maguire here is to be placed with a permanent human doormat after the holidays. They have been in foster care about six months, and were named after the Molly Maguires, Pennsylvania's Irish immigrants who resisted the brutality of coal mine bosses until they were hunted down and murdered during the 1870s, or framed and publicly hanged --sometimes in sight of their own homes, with their families watching.

Maguire is a funny little guy, and I enjoyed watching an old film with him after he finally surrendered parts of my face back to my control.

[Edit: [url=http://www.blipfoto.com/entry/1458365]Here [/url]is another shot of me & Maguire.