After the death of Emma, my significant other and I felt the compulsion to replace her—and not with just one new kitty, but a bunch. The first newbie was Misha, who had the most incredible eye color I've ever seen. My S.O. named her Misha because it sounded exotic, the way she looked.
Diminutive and quite shy, Misha nevertheless liked getting in your face and kissing you on the lips—a startling experience. Alas, we had to let her go to another home, for she did not appreciate having multiple adoptive siblings. One was okay, two was tolerable, but three led to flying fur and bloodshed. Can't have that.
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