Last week was the anniversary of our bringing Saki home from the cat jail / pound. I try not to write about him too much because it’s such a cheap, easy way to unleash a flood of “Ooh he’s so adorable” comments, but come to think of it, I never said I wasn’t cheap and easy, so what the hell?
And he IS adorable. Feisty and trouble, too, and I bear the scars to prove it, but during those times when he’s sweet, ooh he’s adorable. Every evening when we come home I pick him up, turn him on his back and process around the house with him like he’s the fucking Baby Infant Jesus of Prague. Adorable. And when he’s happy, he doesn’t just purr, he makes these grunting, guttural noises that obviously signal cat ecstasy. Adorable. And the last Sunday of each month we take him down to the SPCA to have his razor sharp claws trimmed; the week preceding that is filled with playful slashes that leave my hands in bleeding ribbons. Okay, Not Adorable, but still.
Are we glad we sprang him from Cat Jail? Oh yeah.