Diane G. is a regular here, and she entered her lovely tabby, Winston, who seems to be a bit of a narcoleptic. Anyway, here’s what Diane has to say about him:
Five months after losing our last cat, two of us approached the third member of the household about our severe case of kitteh withdrawal. “We have enough pets,” he grumped. So my daughter and I outvoted him, and a few days later a certain kitty at the local pound caught our fancy. According to the tag on his cage he had been trapped, was perhaps about 2 years old, and “appeared to be socialized.” When I picked him up after the mandatory neutering, he was groggy, feverish, emaciated, and sporting a wicked case of pound flu. Here he is, shortly after we brought him home, with Mr. We-Have-Enough-Pets:
In those early days Winston was mainly cuddly and sneezy, but after a course of antibiotics and TLC his true impitude began to emerge. He has a great fondness for dragging soft items from the basement all the way up the stairs, through his kitty door, and into the main living quarters, something I figured out after wondering how on earth golf-club head covers kept appearing in the family room. The bounty has since included four fuzzy slippers, two stress balls, the odd piece of foam rubber, a hand towel, and countless stuffed animals; eventually we learned to play our part by taking armfuls of his treasures back downstairs for him to rediscover and haul up again.
Among his more amazing talents are Cute Sleeping (see above) and Cute Sitting, preferably in armchairs, always favoring the right arm, though he makes do if he finds the chair already occupied:
Somehow the 8lb 3oz waif we brought home managed to gain five pounds in four months. We’d had trouble coming up with a name for him at first; suddenly a raft of new ones suggested themselves (Goodyear? MetLife? Hindenburg?). He is now becoming acquainted with the ”Stimulo”cat dish.
Despite his current tubbiness, he’s turned into a healthy little dynamo, zipping up and down his cat tree and pouncing on bugs and the occasional bare foot. Oddly, though, he appears to have a sort of visual deficit; while he can spy a moth on the ceiling, he will also run into doors and walls and occasionally executes a spectacular long jump when he realizes he’s about to run headlong into a sleeping dog.
Naturally we are all besotted with him, as perhaps you can tell by this short little music-video my daughter, Liz, made.