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| Name: |
You
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Age: |
Fourteen years old
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| Gender: |
Male
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Breed: |
Orange Tabby
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| Home: |
Pleasanton, California, USA
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Allow
me to address the first question that's likely to arise: This
treasure of fur is not named You so that I can call out "Hey,
You!" I was gazing at his beautiful orange face one day saying,
"Oh, you are so cute! Yes, you! You!" And
there you have it! "You" was born!
You appeared on my porch one day as a frightened stray, but wouldn't
eat from the bowl I left him unless I closed the door to the house
and stayed inside. Over the course of a year, I provided a
comfortable environment for him to eat in, but I gradually, almost
imperceptibly, intruded upon his space. One day, I left his food just
inside the door so he'd have to enter the house to get it, and I
remained at quite a distance. He came inside, ate cautiously, and
left. From that day forward, he's become my shadow, following me
around the house as a happy indoor cat. No more do I find little
indications of cat fights on his fur... no more does he go hungry or
lonely. You and I are one. He is my life.
You has been the unjudgemental guiding light through four of my
surgeries. He and I trust each other. I give him food, shelter and
all the kisses he can stand and he gives me unconditional love. I'd
do anything for my You. He's more spoiled than anybody, human or
otherwise, that I know. You has a step-brother who has the
unfortunately UNclever name of Furry. They get along as though they
were the best of business partners and a good partnership it is, too!
They never fight, but Furry challenges You to a game of Rampant
Stairway Racing at every opportunity. Since You is reaching his
retirement years, he's not too keen on any movement that outpaces a
snail casually out for a stroll. I figure this is his way of
displaying how cool he is.
Take catnip doses, for example: Furry treats his like some
much-coveted narcotic to be hoarded while You is the epitome of
coolness, nibbling then gazing off into space as though he's
contemplating existentialism and other philosophical notions. Furry
becomes one with the carpet, seemingly trying to burrow his way
beneath it, then making every attempt to coat the carpet with a thick
layer of his fur. You stands by and watches him in disgust. I think
he's saying, "Look.... if you can't handle your catnip, you have
no business partaking!" You resides in California with his
maniacal brother, Furry, and his sub-specie humans, Sandi and Ivo.
You can see more of him at
his website.
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Find out how your pet
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