It's no secret to those who know me best that I'm a cat person. I prefer the more introverted nature of cats, the way that they allow you to vacation for days at a time without need of walking or attention (and you don't need to worry about them chewing on your furniture to "get back at you" while you're away either). I love how aloof and self-aware they are, yet they prefer to sleep on top of a warm appliance or cuddled up next to you instead of being petted or played with.

My cat is the queen of my world, I've had her for nearly 7 years now and she's my child. She's had a terminal disease for 6 1/2 of her 7 years, but that's always been at the back-burner of her life. She's just Delilah... my overweight, spoiled, pushy little girl. If I had my way, there would be more running around. Unfortunately, due to the illness, I'm unable to adopt again (even if they are also feline leukemia carriers - there's no telling which strain and what the stress would cause the illness to do).

As I was throwing the garbage out this evening, a skinny grey tabby cat greeted me. He followed me back to my apartment where I disappeared inside and produced a bowl of milk (cats are actually lactose intolerant but the poor thing was hungry!) and a cup of food. He ate it gratefully, taking breaks to wind himself around my leg. He mewed, purred, begged for attention. I've named him Coda (Italian for "tail," as his is the entire length of his body plus some). It looks like he's going to be our unofficial outside cat. I'm positive he has an owner somewhere - he's very socialized (and he loved my daughter) - but I'm more than happy to have another fur baby in my life.

This entry was posted by Mellie, on Sunday, October 29, 2006.