crazy cat

We all have our jobs around here, and most of a cat's job cannot be done by either Rocko or me. It's time to hire one on.

The mole population in my yard has exploded in the year since both my cat and my rat snake disappeared. I've known for a while that I need another cat; no snake has come along to take the place of ol' Ratty.

A friend of mine said that one of my co-workers might have a cat to spare.

I asked Shelly, my co-worker, if she had any cats to get rid of. It turns out that she finally got all of her cats fixed, so there won't be any more litters, but there is a male "crazy cat" that she "wouldn't really miss" if he found another home.

At first I wasn't sure if I wanted a crazy cat, but I looked at Lisa's picture and talked about it. "Remember what Jack was like," she responded, "he was feral when you came along. You turned him into Gentleman Jack. You are a cat whisperer. You can handle a crazy cat."

And of course Lisa (and my subconscious mind) is right. We described Jack as "feral" when I first joined the family, and I gradually tamed him - through his Catholic phase, where I needed to bless his food with "holy water" before he would eat as I sat by his side, into the Rocko years, and finally to the Pigeon River valley of North Carolina, where he truly became Gentleman Jack.

Shelly says that the crazy cat is a good mouser, which is essential, and she wanted me to promise that I won't force the cat to stay out in the coldest weather. "No, no, the cat won't be forced to stay outside," I said. It's important that the cat be happy outdoors and not need a litter box, but the cat would certainly be welcome indoors.