My first cat

I’ve lived with cats before. Lea had two when we got married. If you believe in the concept of a familiar, Peaches was Lea’s. Peaches never liked me, but detested me to the depths of her soul when it became clear that not only was I still going to come over, now I wasn’t going to ever leave. Sometimes she’d hiss at me just for walking through the room. She had moderated to merely regarding me with naked contempt by the time she died a year and a half ago.

There was also her sister Callie, who liked me all right. She was usually up for a belly rub, and once in a great while she’d even sleep in my lap while I read or watched TV. But she was still Lea’s cat. Callie passed last Thanksgiving weekend.

Oliver’s everybody’s, but he mostly picks me when I’m around. That’s a new experience for me. He’ll sit, lie, and/or sleep in my study as long as I’m in there. If I leave just for a minute, he stays. If I’m gone too long to suit him, he comes to see what I’m doing with a “meoooowrrr.” Then when I go back, he’s right back with me again. I love on him often, but if it’s been too long, he lets me know. I like it.

He’s been with us all of a month and a half, and he acts like he’s been here ten years. I think he’s a happy guy.

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