Dear Diary,

My name is Gwendolynn Anne Marie Stefani Collins Silver.  You may call me Gwennie. 

I am originally from Kansas City, MO.  This is a picture of the skyline.

That’s where my Momma adopted me.  I’m a big girl now but I didn’t always used to be.

See, this is a baby picture of me. 

Momma and I lived in Kansas City for about two years.  I loved our little apartment.  It had all kinds of amenities.  I had furniture to scratch, cupboard doors to open and birdies would come and visit me on the porch.  But I must say my favorite amenities were the duckies and the geese that frequented my duck pond.

The goose in this picture was very protective of the ducky next to him.  So protective, that when my Momma was taking their pictures, the goose got very angry at Momma and ran at her with his beak wide open.  If I had been there I wouldn’t have stood for that.  You don’t threaten my Momma!

I would have run right up to that goose and yelled, “Listen, here, you dirty, stinking, bird!  You leave my Momma alone or I’m gonna poop in your litter box!”

Then I would have run like hell all the way home.

While we were living in Kansas City, Momma started dating my Boy-Dadda.  He’s a very nice Boy-Dadda but I didn’t always like him.  Momma was married previously and her marriage to the first boy ended.  Right after she moved into our apartment she brought me home and told me that all men are evil pigs.  Then she sat me down in front of the television and made me watch, Lifetime  and Oxygen for three days straight. 

Is it any wonder why I didn’t like my Boy-Dadda?  Shame on Momma!  Even though she tried to convince me that he was a good Boy-Dadda, I didn’t believe her.  I was convinced that he was a horrible, awful prevert. 

What’s that?  Why does Momma’s pooter highlight prevert?  Let me click on it and find out. Oh it’s spell check.  How’s it supposed to be spelled?  P-E-R-V-E-R-T.  Pervert?  Well that’s just a stupid way to spell that.  I’m not gonna.

He was always trying to touch me and rub my belly and I was convinced that he was a prevert.  Momma said he was just trying to love on me.  I told her that he could try all he wanted to but if he came anywhere near me I was gonna bite off his toes and his fingers and anything else I could.

Anyway, despite my desperate disliking of the Boy-Dadda, Momma and I moved to California to live with him.  While we were there, she and the Boy-Dadda brought home my sissy, Little Missy.  At first I didn’t like Little Missy very much.  She’s ugly!  Now I just feel sorry for her because she’s so ugly.



This is a baby picture of Little Missy.  She’s so ugly it just makes me want to cry.  I mean just look at her?  It must be so difficult for her to live with me.  After all I’m just so exquisitely, exceptionally beautiful.

See!  Look at me!  Look how fluffy my belly is.  I’m extraordinary. Poor Little Missy. 

This is a picture of Molly.  Poor Molly.  A few months ago she had to go to Heaven.  If I had known that I would have been nice to her…..for at least five minutes out of every day.  What do you expect?  I’m a cat.