It's in the bag

Those of you who know me, know I have a pet. Her name is Spike. She is a F-5 Savannah cat. (Savannahs are a hybrid breed of African Serval & Serengeti.) When we first got her (2 years ago) she had a cute pink collar. She only wore that one a week. Because while at the pet shop we found a pink leather spiked collar. It suits her well.

Really she is a dog trapped in a cat's body. She is the only cat I know that plays fetch. She will always run to the door when the doorbell rings, sniff out anyone who enters our home. She turns on lights. Faucets too. (I HATE coming home to find several on.)

She answers the phone. Yes, the stinkin' phone. (We have one non-cordless phone and she runs to pick it up with her paws.) So if you ever call my house and someone picks up but doesn't talk, be sure to say hi to Spike before you hang up.


She also loves bags. ANY bag. I ran to the pharmacy this weekend. I walked away from the kitchen to put away my purchase. When I returned to the kitchen, I found this:









Now do you see why we named her Spike? Because "Fluffy" just wouldn't cut it.