10 February 2010

Holding out for a hero

January 2010

When you rescue an animal, it's often difficult to know what it might have been through before the two of you joined forces. My half-feral calico wanted nothing more than to climb under the covers with me and curl into the safety of my midsection while I slept. She did not care for men, at least until she met the spouse in her dotage, and the spouse became one of her best friends.

Milton came to me a half-starved, half-kitten. All I knew from the shelter is that he'd been dumped twice by foster families for no particular reason. He had no behaviour problems, no health problems, no personality issues other than being somewhat shy. And he loved dogs.

He does love dogs. I know he misses Mitzi, our lovely, completely egregious American Eskimo, who died almost 4 years ago. He will still look for her in the place where her pen used to be. When I catch him in the window looking at dogs being taken for walks, he seems almost wistful.

He is an indoor cat, and would be even if he didn't choose that life. There are too many dangers here for a 9-lb. furball, and he would be too great a danger to the birds. He will venture out as far as the front steps when I am working in the yard, and he is content to watch from that vantage point unless the crows get too close and then he will flee into the house. Otherwise, I work for awhile, and then he suggests the possibility of lunch, and I suggest the possibility of a good game of "Oh! There's an organic apple sticker on your tail!"

Go listen to some music: "Holding Out for a Hero" from the album Super Hits by Bonnie Tyler.

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