Roxy turns six months old, this weekend. She just survived her first experience with our awesome babysitter.

(She’s growing up so fast!)

I prefer to celebrate “gotcha days” more than birthdays, but six months is a big deal. First up, she is still alive. That’s a milestone for a kitty who comes from the city streets of Durham. Also, Roxy has been battling intestinal bacteria (ugh!) but continues to gain weight. Hooray for mom. I have to practically beg her to eat, which is something that I’ve never experienced with a cat.

(Have you seen my poonchy Emma? Enough said.)

But this weekend is a big deal because we have a goal for Roxy: she has to be six months or seven pounds to go in the basement and hang out in the rafters with Scrubby.

Six months is here! (And she’s about 6.5 lbs!) We will be capturing video and photos of our big girl as she kills me with her courage and silliness. Before we let her rule the roost, we have to add a few safety platforms to Scrubby’s rafter kingdom so she won’t die. Otherwise, I think she’s ready for new adventures.

(Although I’m not sure I am ready for it.)

Can’t wait to see how this goes.


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