I talk an awful lot about my cat Priscilla, but there's also another kitty in my life that's just as close to my heart, and his name is Charlie! He's been a part of our family for nearly five years now, but he could be considered a black sheep of sorts. I don't want to say that Prissy HATES him, but sometimes I think that if she spontaneously developed the ability talk, her strong dislike towards him might be the first topic of discussion. Oh, sure..there's nose (and butt) sniffs here and there, and they generally cohabitate in harmony, but I'm not sure a day has gone by without a hiss and/or swat to remind him who's really the boss!
It's a pity for her though, because Charlie is one of the sweetest cats you'll ever meet. He's extremely affectionate (a nice way of saying clingy) and devoted. He loves following people around (he's no stranger to getting tripped over), and being the center of attention. He's not really like any other cat I've ever encountered, and in fact, sometimes I think he's more like a dog (or an alien).
He lacks the grace and poise of Priscilla, and I wonder if that's part of the reason why she looks at him with such disdain. He's clumsy and overly curious; This is a cat who routinely sneaks into rooms and gets locked in them for several hours, once took a spin in the dryer (he was fine), and even singed some fur on his back leg the time he accidentally turned on the stove.
From Rags to Riches
That being said, I don't think I've ever heard him hiss in his life (Priscilla is fondly referred to as "the airbag"), and I call him a "Beanie Baby" because he's long and lanky, and you can throw him over your shoulder, rub his belly, and squeeze his toes, and he won't even bat an eyelash.
He came into our lives during a hot summer five years ago when our dog, Teddy, discovered him living in the sewer down the street. He would spend his days there, sometimes emerging, but quickly retreating when a person or strange truck would drive by. We'd find him napping with his head on a hard rock, and every day for about a week or two, we'd lure him out with food and water. He was so friendly, we quickly determined there was no way he was feral, and must either be lost or abandoned. We put signs up all around the neighborhood proclaiming, "Lost Cat!" and checked with the local shelter to see if anyone had been looking for him, but secretly hoped they hadn't.
Last day outside!
I'll never forget the day we lured him to our house with a cat toy that looked like a computer mouse. He would walk (it's more of a waddle) a few steps and sit down again, and then repeat, over and over until we finally made it to the front porch. He camped out there for a few days, sleeping on an old kitchen chair cushion under a bench, before we were able to take him to the vet.
Once there, we found out that he was around a year old, not micro-chipped, healthy, and had already been fixed. Since no one stepped forward to claim him, we officially decided to bring him home and make him an indoor cat. Priscilla may not have been happy about it, but I'd say he acclimated to his new lifestyle pretty quickly.
Happy Sixth(ish) Birthday, Little Charles! I love you!