I was greeted by this little furball up the street today who seemed to think that when I squatted down to take her photo that indicated that there may be food involved.  Hence, the tongue.  By the unique stripe on her back leg, I’d say that she’s related to a cat that used to sleep in the sun in our back yard a few years back.  When I would go to greet him, he would stand up and rub against my legs in an ever-increasing velocity of a circle.  When it reached a frenzied pitch, he turned around and attacked my leg in a most convincing and painful fashion – all without me ever having touched him.  I stopped saying hello.  Hope this trait skips a generation.

Fairbanks House