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Friday, June 10, 2011

Boots, Socks or Oreo

I just call him Cat.

A few years ago, while I was taking my grandson to the school bus stop, I remember there was this little cat that all the kids called Oreo. He was the friendliest little thing. He diplomatically took turns greeting each new arrival to the corner. He would prance over, throw himself on the ground for a tummy scratch and then pop up to rub on the new arrival's legs. You could hear him purr a mile away. Cat was thin, but healthy and quick as a shot. I have seen him catch more than one squirrel.

I asked around about Cat. According to the neighbors he was a stray. My grandson nagged me every day to take him home. Soon his mother nagged me, too. But, after being entertained by him at the bus stop and nagged for half a school year, I no longer saw him and he went from my mind.

I had an old girl at home, you see. Her name was Jasmine, Jazz for short. She had adopted us from the SPCA 20 years earlier at the ripe age of 5. Yes, she was my 25 year old kitty. She deserved her peace and quiet. She had shared her home with a few other cats in her time and I sensed she just wanted the solitary, quiet life. There was no telling what a rambunctious, preteen kitty would do to upset her throne.

Jazz and I had a very close relationship. She was a calico with regal personality. She was an ambassador for cats. I had met more than one person that just hated cats, except for her, of course.

Last year, my beloved kitty passed away. I was devastated. "That's it," I thought, "no more pets."

Months later, in the dead of a cold winter, we started to notice this cat hanging around our block. It didn't take long for us to figure out that it was Cat, all grown up. How he evaded Animal Control, I'll never figure out.

Well, he began to work his charms on my husband, who had never met him before. Soon, he, too, was begging me to take him in.

It was cold out, real cold. I wondered how he managed. Turned out, he was semi living with the elderly neighbor man. There was my out. We couldn't take him in. He belonged to someone. Or, did he; could he?

As days and weeks passed, I found out that my husband had been secretly feeding him. He began to follow my husband into the house. At first, I yelled. But, by then, Cat had started working his charms on me, too.

To make this long story shorter. I talked to the neighbor, who denied owning him. And, Cat must like our food better because he chooses to stay here now. In fact, I can't really get him to go out. We checked him over and found that at some point someone had neutered him. (YAY!!!) We also found he was in need of flea medicine. He has a few nibbles to his ears, too. Other than that he is none the worse for wear. He is now ours and he is still called Cat. Though everyone else in the family has a different name for him.

You may be asking yourself what this has to do with wire. I ask you, "Have you ever tried to bead or work long wires with a cat around?" Need I say more? :)

Cat

5 comments:

  1. Awww... what a sweet story. I'm so glad you took him in.
    When you work with wire, has Cat to stay out of the room?

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  2. Cats do know how to survive. It is painful to lose a beloved pet but at just the right time another finds its way into your heart. Happy Cat found its way.

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  3. He knew you needed him....even if you didn't know it.....
    I'm glad he's home.
    MichelleO.

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  4. We fortunately or unfortunately adopted 2 little boys this year also needing homes desperately. With the economy the way it is strays have nowhere to go. I'm glad Cat has a home and we'll suffer in our crafts together!

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  5. Thank you for the comments and sharing your animal thoughts. I'm such a softie for cats AND dogs. I only have room for cats, though.

    Auf Draht- What do I do about Cat pouncing with delight on my wild wires and string? I am quite patient and know I need to take a break until he looses interest. It has to be such a temptation for him! Eventually, he does lose interest, though. So far, anyway. I also use a sound- pppsssshhhttt! He knows that means go away and it usually works. He HATES that sound.

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