Tikkabik

Up until last January, we had a cat named Fletchen. He was very elderly, bordering on 20. He was a Maine Coon, and had been Bonnie's cat from high school on. Almost from the time that Bonnie and I started living together we'd kept Fletchen inside, because he was an outdoor cat who wasn't faring particularly well out-of-doors -- he'd already had one near death experience by the time I'd met him and then wandered home one day with a huge abcess on one side from where he'd gotten mauled by another neighborhood cat.

Fletchen was already there when I met her and already there when we had kids; he seemed like a permanent fixture in our lives, although we knew with each passing year that he was getting more elderly and frail. His eyesight and hearing were fading, his beautiful coat had an ashy, grey sheen to it. He moved slower and less spryly, and began to lose weight. Fletchen finally died last year, and what's so odd about it is that he didn't die of old age or any sort of disease -- he got out one day, purely by accident (we'd kept him indoors for years) and was struck by a car. Maybe I'm rationalizing a bit here, but I strongly suspect Fletchen knew the end was near and wanted to get out and away from us before it happened. If the neighbors hadn't found him after he got hit, I suspect we probably wouldn't have seen him again.

Losing him was a personal tragedy for Bonnie, and for me and the kids to a lesser degree. We all loved him very much, but we were grateful that we at least got some closure by seeing his remains off to the vet (and ultimately into a nice little cremation box that Bonnie still has).

So we went a year without another pet save for our goldfish Goldie.

Bonnie announced some time ago that she felt she was ready for another cat, and we'd superficially discussed whether to get a kitten or adopt an adult and what kind of cat to get.

The local newspaper runs a column for the CLAWS program, which is operated by the animal control officer for the town we live in. Every week, she lists the cats that she has available, along with any new arrivals and adoptees. In fact, her basement *is* the shelter, where she keeps almost two dozen cats that are waiting for homes (a lovely place, by the way -- she heats the basement and keeps it meticulously clean and spacious for the cats, some of which have to be kept in cages because they haven't passed medical muster yet).

In last week's issue of the paper they ran a black and white photo of a cat that looked startlingly like our old cat Fletchen. Bonnie gave June, who runs CLAWS, a call, and we set up a time to meet last night.

Handsome, he is called, and he's a longhair of possibly Maine Coon origins -- he's incredibly stocky, very furry, and marked with the breed's distinctive black and brown mackerel tabby stripes.

Apparently Handsome's background is tragic. He was a family pet whose family -- which lived in a neighboring town -- died in a car crash sometime last year; a neighbor of theirs fed him but didn't necessarily take care of him for as long as she could but ultimately remanded him to the custody of the local vet, who turned him over to CLAWS. He'd only been there for a couple of weeks by the time we got to meet him last night.

He's very shy but very sweet, likes to be cuddled and petted and purrs loudly when you do -- he's not vocal at all, nor is he aggressive. As I read him, Handsome has probably been traumatized by all the changes that have happened to him, and I expect it's going to take him some time to settle down and get comfortable in his new surroundings -- like, a month or two at least.

Her name is Scully, and outside of her similar tabby stripes, she's Handsome's polar opposite. While he's a bit reclusive and shy, Scully is outgoing and playful -- she wants to be where the action is, as Bonnie says. We think she's a bit longer in the tooth than Handsome is -- her face and eyes tell me that she's got some years on her, but she's cottoned to the kids immediately, and is very gentle with them and likes to be the center of attention. Like Handsome, she is remarkably quiet and docile. She's also been my shadow. I'm something of a night owl: I got up a couple of times in the night, and found her at my feet each time.

Scully came to CLAWS infested with ticks, roundworm and tapeworm, and had wasted away to nothing at all. Now she's got a healthy, sleek coat and a bit of a paunch, and a ferocious appetite for moist food. She's such a sweet cat we couldn't say no to her. It was nice that June offered to give us Scully for free, because she just wanted to make sure she found a good home. (She'd been there since November with no takers.)

So, we're once again a home with cats in it, and this has made Bonnie incredibly happy -- and that's something I can't put a price on, so it pleases me to no end as well. What's more, all the kids -- even James, who resolutely insists that he is a Dog Person -- are enthusiastic about having cats again too.