This is my 900th post on DYHJ, and I am dedicating it to my kitty d’Artagnan, who earlier this week decided that a small dark spot on our bathtub was obviously a bug that needed to be stalked and chased.
He waited patiently for it to move so that he could pounce on it, finally growing frustrated when it refused to play along. I think he thought I should do something about it.
d’Artagnan is an awfully good kitty. He’s quite petite and likes to snuggle up in the place under your right arm, or — if it’s cold — on your upper chest tucked under your chin. He plays fetch with hairbands (preferring hot pink ones if he can find them) and likes to burrow under the blankets and hide in a “cave” under our knees. He follows Paisley into the kitchen each morning and sits for a treat; the only ones he likes are Pit’r Pats, which come in these great little miniature Altoid tins. He’s a notorious scaredy cat, freaking out at loud noises (and not very loud noises… and people walking in his general direction) and I’m sure a person could visit our house for a week and never even know that we had a cat, much less the World’s Most Snuggly Cat Ever. He answers to Little Bit and Meep Meep, is soft like a bunny, and fusses at me when I get home until I go upstairs and give him some sort of unspoken permission to eat his dinner while I change out of my work clothes.
We adopted him about a year after we got married, after we moved out of a no-pet rental. d’Artagnan was a Freecycle kitty that I found weeks before we actually adopted him. His owner didn’t respond to my email, and I regretfully let him go — I’d been so excited to find a little orange kitten that needed a home. Then weeks later, she contacted me and asked if I were still interested. Turned out she’d had to convince her granddaughter to give him up — don’t worry, they had about a million cats and kittens — but now “Tiger” was available. We took him home and he cried the entire way (scared of the car!) and he’s been our baby boy ever since.