One journalist's musings about the beautiful, bizarre world in which we live
My cat, Napoleon Buonoparte, lives in Edmonton with Dan’s family (who, in many respects, I consider part of my own family).
They temporarily adopted him a few years ago when I went to Mexico, but he made so many friends and was loved so well that I couldn’t take him back.
As an outdoor cat, “Poley” broke his tail a few months ago in what was probably a fight. Much to his chagrin, it had to be amputated. While unbalanced for the first little while, he seems generally happy and healthy now.
While he was recovering, though – and stuck indoors – he had no fewer than a half-dozen people drop by to visit him, bringing treats, toys and even money to make him feel better. Turns out the fuzzy Little General was being fed by four different houses every day, was an adoptive father to some kittens down the street and regularly just hung about his favourite people while they were gardening. They even met neighbours they didn’t know through the incident, as they wanted to give him some feel-better pats.
(First published on my work liveblog)