Promising our best
Love's responsibilities.
He is at ease now, and we grieve his loss.
We moved here, and found out we could have a cat. One on the Rescue League's website was a black male short-hair named Midnight. We went to see him, and despite not being happy to be picked up, he did not put out his claws. He was not overjoyed to see us, but didn't seem to mind either. We both thought him wonderful. D brought him home a few days later, a very unhappy cat in a box on the Train. He hid a lot. But gradually he came out, and gradually came to find us interesting and kind. We would name him Moby because it just seemed like the right name. Neither of us has a scratch yet. He listens for the ding of the elevator when we are expected.
D is ridiculously sweet about him. Gentle with him. Plays with him. Moby makes him laugh when even I cannot. Moby sleeps on D when he is ill, though he is not a sitting-on-you kind of cat. More like leans-on-you-if-you-are-still. He is a much bigger cat than we realized after we measured him (to his deep annoyance). He is about 12 pounds, about 20" long nose to base of tail. He loves to drag stuff, like a rope he plays with, to the rug, that is now his. He enlivens our home, and warms us. Distracts us when we are moody. Sits most often equidistant from us. Circles us when we come home. He has claimed us, and we have a larger family because of him. One we can take good care of.
