Meet Wilson.
He is about 4.5 years old (we think?) and was living for a short time with an amazing and deeply caring foster family. I met him a few weeks ago by pure happenstance and was instantly charmed and intrigued – despite being strongly committed to not being charmed or intrigued – but I couldn’t begin think about another cat given how much of my time and my heart was given over to Nettie. Which is where my time and my heart needed to be.
Wilson was a polite prince and a gentleman when I drove him the 170 miles back to his new home with us. He’s aces, this little guy. His first day has been remarkably easy. He’s been gathering olfactory intelligence, playing, head-butting, and generally surveying the scene and offering an awful lot of love. Amazing how these creatures can bounce right into Love after their lives have been upended.
I’ve gently begun his nutritional re-education. His foster parents kindly gave some of his current food to take home. I set out three options for him: his kibble, a plate of homemade raw, and a plate of good canned food. We’re only 8 hours into his arrival, but I will say that after pausing over each option and almost . . . almost taking the kibble, this little guy ate a few nibbles of the home-prepared raw earlier tonight. Then a few bites of kibble.
He’s a great cat. Strong as an ox. A love machine. Confident. An efficient basement bug exterminator. And that smudge of white on his nose is to die for.
We’re on our way.
