Nastia. Our little kitty. Man is she spoiled.
She's almost a year old now and she's completely won over our entire household.
Nastia (whom I've taken to calling just Liddow Kii-yy) got our cantankerous Billie Holiday cat to not try to kill her every time they were in the same room together. That alone is a miracle.
But the biggest feat she was able to achieve was getting to lay on my mother's bed.
For those who doen't know my mom, she doesn't like animals to touch her stuff and especially not her directly.
She's fine with them in the house — for the most part. But she did make me promise that we'd never get a bunch of big dogs that would slobber all over her. That was easy as I myself am not a fan of big dogs slobbering all over me.
My mom spent the first couple weeks living with us training (as much as any of our animals can be trained) our pets to not — under any circumstances — get on her bed, touch her stuff and especially not touch her.
They all learned this ... except for Nastia.
The little kitty is very persistent with her princess ways and took advantage of my mom's limited mobility.
If the dog looks at my mom too long or in the wrong way, all my mom has to do is point a finger and Quincy makes a hasty retreat. If Billie or Ella get on her bed, my mom moves her leg and off they scamper.
Not Nastia. She just moves out of my mom's reach and goes back to sleep.
The other day I saw her snuggled against my mom's leg!
Like I said, Nastia's the princess of the house and we all seem to have that figured out now.