The fifth cat that is.
I can’t believe it’s already almost a week since Grace and I tried to lure a stray cat to us with a bowl of dry cat food. To our surprise and wonder, it actually came. It was wearing a flea collar and was nothing but skin and bones. It meowed but it’s voice wasn’t a thing of beauty. It said, “Hello, I am a starving cat. I’ve been watching you for a month. I already met your other cats. The black one chased me away but I had a feeling you would welcome me inside.”
And I said, “Ohhhhhh my goodness, come on inside you poor poor little baby kitty, you’re so handsome and sweet you’re so thin, let’s feed youuuuuuuu.”
Seth wanted him so I said he could be Seth’s cat. Then Caleb came to me and said “I can’t believe you gave that cat to Seth.” He thought it should be his cat. Then Sierra sent me a text. “Can that be Ethan’s cat? We want it.” (They don’t know this but all the cats are secretly….mine). I tried to be a peacemaker the best I could but we started arguing about what to name him. Clyde? Clive? Lorenzo?
I’ve been calling him Mr Bones.
Yesterday I overheard Seth call him Little Sticks. I’m not sure which name will stay.
Seth and Sarah don’t like to pet him because all they can feel are his sharp bones jutting out. Shoulder blades, hips, and heels especially.
Within days I had him at the vet getting his rabies and distemper shots. On Tuesday he will be getting neutered.
He drinks from the toilet and eats from the kitchen sink and I wonder if his previous owner ever gave him a proper meal for cats, you know like actual cat food in a dish?. He’s obviously not partial to bowls and saucers. He only weighs seven pounds. He’s had butter, a leftover sausage, part of Davids egg sandwich including the bread, and some of my matcha latte. Who knows how long he was outside starving in the cold winter.
Regardless, he’s mine now. He’s been thoroughly adopted.
This morning I was making a cup of coffee when I noticed that my husband had written something on one of the fridge magnets: