Monday, August 28, 2006

Mr. Wuv Cat

Welcome to the family, little Siamese(ish) dude.

J's sister Amy (small town vet and Patron Saint of Downtrodden Pets), sensing a weakness in the Force, just "happened" to have a sad, adorable kitten in need of a home. Okay, she's pretty much always got some sad-sack, down-on-its-luck cast-off stray of some kind, so it was pretty much a sure bet that telling her we were down one cat would result in another one joining the fold. Last time this happened we got Banshee, also a Siamese mix, who was so painfully stupid that we had to find her a new, less complicated home to live on so she wouldn't keep peeing on our stuff. Before that it was Bosco, a fine and doltish huge, greasy hundred-pound Doberman with impossibly long legs who would eat blackberries off the vine and cherries right off the tree in our back yard. And who could fart like a rhinoceros. Yet we loved him. From a distance and with many lit candles.

Anyway, now we have Ringo. He was brought in to the vet clinic a pathetically thin (less than one pound) and largely bald kitten, suffering from ear mites, worms, malnutrition, neglect, etc. Oh, and a truly impressive case of ringworm. Hence the baldness, and the name. He has since packed on the ounces and grown the hair back, though it's still a bit thin on his tail which was practically hairless to start with. He is Siamese-oid, a creamy white with gray ears and tail and a gray diamond over his nose. His fur is slightly longish but not like a Persian or anything. When I get a chance I'll get a photo on here.

And he is Mr. Wuv Cat. He wuvs us. He wuvs the baby. He wuvs the dogs and he'd wuv Wilbur (the matriarch, an aging and cranky black cat named when She was thought to be a He) if only she'd let him, but she never, ever will. He lays on your chest and purrs, and when he's really comfy he'll lick your chin so hard it hurts. He has known adversity, and he much prefers prosperity. Don't we all.

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