After all, she was my first solo-owned kitty (as distinguished from the photos of me taken as a child in the pre-divorce years with felines ... or of me with Tuppy at the Woodwards [the family that all but adopted me when I ran away from home] ... or of me with Smokey [the kitty from our college dorm room that our little village raised as a group]).
Meaning -- if that meant that she wanted to go explore the tiny back yard behind the second fraternity house we had set up two decades ago on Walnut Street next to Big Bertha's in my hometown of Lebanon, then outside she would go. And, because she was who she was, she didn't run away ... she just took her time enjoying a bit of outdoor play. She was, quite clearly and most definitely, in charge.
