I figured since I did a post to show my appreciation for Misha, it was only fair to do a post about Lassie.
So Lassie is now an indoor cat and the latest addition to my humble abode. Last year, around October, I found the litter of Lassie and his siblings living under my deck in the back yard. They were wee, not more than 3 or 4 weeks old and MaMa Cat was still nursing and keeping them safe from scary creatures like humans. They got a bit used to me over the year, since I fed them, gave them water and had countless hours watching them frolic. Bowser, the black and white one, was the first to go, disappearing into the night. I figured that since he was still pretty small, about 4 months old, he probably got picked up by a loving home who thought he would be a perfect new addition. The other cats were still skiddish, even though I showed them nothing but tender care. MaMa was especially weary of us, and made sure to keep her eyes on us when we fed her and her brood.
A few months back, Lassie, the creamsicle kitty, started letting me touch him once in a while when he was eating. Larger than the rest, and even larger than MaMa at less than a year old, he seemed the most shy of the group in this feral setting. He didn’t play with his brother Tigger or sister Pawsome as much as they romped together. He seemed a bit above it, snooty sort of. But he took a shine to me.
About a month ago he started rubbing up against my legs and beckoning me to pet him, on his terms. I complied and we struck a bond. But that was also about the time that MaMa and Pawsome were going into heat and stirring up some nonsense under my neighbor’s house. Not able to sleep for five nights straight he had to do something. So he called the ASPCA and got cages to trap the rascals and send them to the shelter.
Each morning I would wander outside afraid to be alone and see Lassie waiting for me. I would pet him, feed him and pet him some more. I decided that I wanted to help him out and make him my cat along with the accoutrements of regular meals, air conditioning, comfy pillows and of course neutering and shots.
But there was Misha. I let Lassie in one night to see Misha and though Misha played all badass and smacked him, there wasn’t any reciprocation and they both ended up lounging, in separate rooms. This sealed it. I had been picked by Lassie, quite an honor, and I had agreed to let him into my life, fully into my life.