For those of you who know me and my hubby, you know we have a kitty and that we love our furry little girl.
Fuzzums . . . or The Fuzz . . . named so because, ironically enough, she’s, well, fuzzy.
The Fuzz has some serious ‘tude and is quite a character. I’ve had cats all my life and I have never had one with this much personality. She’s a hoot and is truly a wonderful addition to our family.
The Fuzz has a plethora of toys, a blanket, a bed and . . . a brick. Yes, you heard me right . . . a brick. A big, ugly brick . . . and she loves it.
If you’re wondering how a brick made its way into our household, my husband stuck it in with one of my Christmas presents last year so that I wouldn’t be able to guess what it was when I picked it up. And, it never left because the cat immediately glommed onto it.
She rubs on it, sticks her paws inside it, lies up against it and generally just hangs out near it.
I understand that it’s cool and it’s rough, so it probably feels good when she’s lovin’ it. And she does love it. But, really . . . it’s just a brick.