Gabe

Yeah, yeah: I'm another cat-obsessed rhetoric person. So sue me. Move on to the next blog if you couldn't care less.

C. and I just stopped by the Humane Society because we were given a lead on an "adorable" kitten there. Said kitten wasn't there (he's in foster care), but little Gabe was. He's not a kitten, but he's quite petite. I completely ignored him because he looks so much like my 18-year-old Clyde (gray and white), and so seemed merely ordinary, but the volunteer on duty took him out of his cage and asked me if I wanted to play with him. Well, sure--I'm not one to pass up a chance to get to know a new cat. After I held him for, oh, a good 10 or 15 minutes, I realized I wasn't going to be able to leave him behind. I handed him over to C., and he fell totally and completely asleep in C's arms. I've never seen such a relaxed cat. Just the ticket for not upsetting my old guy.

So Gabe is coming to live with us tomorrow (after a little alteration). Let's hope he really is as laid-back as he seemed this afternoon and that Casey and Clyde take to him without too much hissing and flying fur.

And for those who might remember my Siamese obsession of a few weeks ago: I've gotten over it.