Back

It's been 83 days and my buddy, my favorite cat (sorry Bella), is back home where he belongs.  He's noticeably worse for wear, covered in a layers of dirt, scratches, and bites - all skin and bones but he survived the harsh Florida elements.  A pampered indoor cat easily startled by loud noises who learned to live outside for nearly three months eating things I don't even want to consider. I'll never call him a hig baby again. He's a true badass with quite the street cred now.

He has every reason to blame me since I'm the one who turned over the car engine to scare him out from under it but he hasn't. It only took  minutes for him to regain his rightful position cuddling and purring next to me again like nothing had happened.  Like a child who has come back to hash out past unintentional psychological scarring their mother has imparted on them, all is forgiven after just one hug. Not that I'm some crazy cat lady who personifies their pet.

Just when I had all but resigned to thinking I would never see him again, he mysteriously appears in the backyard.  The best belated birthday present ever. A little bit of my faith in the universe was just restored.

(Who says that only dogs can claim this role?  I think I  heard Tiger meowing this after I fed him all of the turkey lunch meat I could possibly find in the refrigerator.  It's our jam.)  http://youtu.be/c2JSUXaY-