So she was very sweet. She would want to sit in my lap and be carried by me. She was not a big fan of kisses, but when reunited after only a few hours apart, she whined and gave me a few stinky ones.
She was also bad. I called her my little hip-hop onion - which was just a bad joke. "What? A 'hip-hop onion'?" Yeah. Or you might say a rapscallion. If she had the opportunity to get on a table with food on it, she did. If she could get to the cat's litter box, she would. On our long trip to Mexico from San Francisco a few years ago, she bolted out the hotel door unexpectedly. Perhaps she was trying to get back to the home she knew, but I had to chase her down the long, carpeted hallway until I had her cornered.
She was Bean, yes, but she was also Bean Curd, Bean Sprout, Bitty, Itty Bitty, and Hip-Hop Onion. She was my little girl, and I miss her.