The amazing, lovable, friendly, kind, curious and gentle ..... CAT!

Our cat never ceases to amaze me. Monday, he traveled across the house, into Captain Destructo's room while we were reading books, and started purring and basically begging for attention. I did the best I could to keep both just-awakened children in my arms, so as not to frighten the poor kitty, but they squirmed and wiggled their way out of my arms to pet him.After many warnings about being gentle, and careful, and soft, it was me walking out of the room that made George ski-daddle out of there, not the little people. Which translates in kid language to: CHASE HIM!George found a safe place to hide, temporarily, but soon he was showered with more attention and love than he knew what to do with.That safe place was right between my t-shirts hung up in our closet (and might I add some trashy t-shirts of mine). Back in the ole' severe allergy days of middle school, high school and college, the mere thought of a cat rubbing up against my clean shirts would have sent me into a Claritin-induced overdose. But just like my dad experienced (which I always thought he was just trying to get me to shut up because there was nothing they could do to relieve my suffering), I eventually outgrew them. The allergies that is.He's one pretty-darn special cat. I checked to make sure his begging for attention wasn't out of starvation or dehydration, and it wasn't. I had a parakeet, named Freckles, that would do that. I got Freckles for my 12th birthday, or Christmas (can't remember), and that bird lived for 9 years. My parents were pretty sure I'd inadvertently kill the bird within a year or two, but noooooooo sirrreee. That bird was hardy as you know what. He was so hardy, there were times when I would forget to feed and water him and he would slip into a starvation-induced delirium that would make him do weird things, like be SUPER nice and let me put my hand in the cage for him to hop on my finger. He'd let me rub his neck and make him do gymnastics. So when George starts acting all nice and stuff, I always check his food and water and I've come to this conclusion: he's just a nice cat. Most cats aren't, but George is.

We got George as a stray. Our neighbors found him and brought him to us. He had been left in one of our County parks with a bowl of food and water. I've got a sneaky suspicion that he was in a house with little kids and was misbehaving, which led to his trek to the woods. So maybe, just maybe, he's got that little movie reel playing in his head when an urge to be "catty" (ha, that worked out too perfect) enters his thoughts. And he thinks to himself, "nah man, these people'll dump me off too. Better straighten up."

Which we wouldn't. But, either way, he's a joy to have around.