I asked, I pled (pleaded?), I even begged a little. No one was willing to take on the black and white hot mess that followed Carol around the backyard like a dog.
She took her this-is-not-my-cat to the vet for a much-needed tune-up shortly after that post.
He was pronounced quite healthy, despite a few battle scars and a sniffle.
Temperatures dipped into the 20s.
He moved into the house proper.
Carol named him Oliver Twist.
Of course, once you name something, you're sunk.
"But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?"
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?"
T. S. Eliot
Welcome to the neighborhood, Oliver.
You have a keen eye for upholstery and the tender-hearted.
4 comments:
You don't choose cats. They choose you.
He looks quite at home there.
Vicki B.
He or She needs to get together with Mom's cat TC and compare stories about walking blindly into a life of luxury!
Sweet.
I am sitting in bed, reading this on my iPad with Oliver nestled comfortably next to me. The peace and love and contentment he brings me, he will never understand. I still do not know how I will manage the part where we go away for 2 months, but we will figure something out.
Thank you for helping me try to rescue him.
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