Frieda

37 degrees, cloudy, occasional rain
4 inches of slush/snow on the ground

Kind of a draggy day. We were up at two in the morning as Denny had to head north for an all-hands meeting before heading out to Bethel. He only had four days at home this trip--hope he can get a longer break next time around.

Anyway, I waved him off about three-o-clock, then sat up awake until nearly five, watching DVDs and working a few crochet squares. I woke up before nine but felt groggy and slow to move most of the morning. I had a sinus headache that I just couldn't shake until I finally took an Advil and a nap.

She is fifteen now, my little red tabby girl, Frieda. She still is the dominant personality among the cats in the shop. Judging from my very limited experience, orange female cats seem to have dominant-type personalities.

Only about 20% of red/orange cats are females. There is a reason the phrase "ginger tom" rolls off the tongue. Genetically-speaking, the feline world produces black or red tabby males and tortoiseshell or calico females in abundance. And every now and then, red tabby females.

Like her coat, Frieda is a firebrand--stubborn, assertive, protective of her family and courageous in the face of threats. In her youth, when she was allowed access to the outdoors, she stalked spruce grouse, chased off intruding dogs and challenged eagles and owls who came too close. I fear unrestrained, she would have had a brief but exciting life.

Now settled into retirement in the shop, she is the Queen. Any disturbance (if she doesn't initiate it) will draw her attention. Any threat to her mother or sister will draw her wrath. She oversees her domain with a no-nonsense air about her, emphasized by her short, upright tail, like a little exclamation mark.

She may be fifteen years old, but no one messes with Frieda.

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