Welcome home

Since our feline friend Horatio died, we have been waiting for the right time to add a new cat to the family. Honestly? I have been waiting for the next volunteer. Over the ten years we have lived here, we have seen at least a dozen strays on our property, and a handful of them have made perfect pets. My instincts were right, and we met our next pet in the garage on Friday as we went to gather suitcases for our weekend of speech tournament travel. There, curled up on the sleeping bag shelf, was a tragically thin kitten-almost-cat. After only a few seconds, it was reaching out to be pet, and it ate the soft bits of food we offered it with speed and gratitude. It was obvious that this cat had been someone's pet, for he/she showed no signs of being feral.

We had to leave for the weekend, and upon our return there was no cat in the garage. Trusted sources related the tragic news that the dog did what dogs will do...she played chase with our timid friend and the cat disappeared up the hill. Big tears fell from the eleven and eight-year-old eyes, but they still called repeatedly to see if the cat would return. Giving up, we went about our business, eventually ending up with all seven of us in the master bedroom as my husband packed for his week away in Washington, D.C. Suddenly, we heard a plaintive howl, and the cat was found.

Named Dolce (Italian for sweet, mild, pleasant) this is one happy cat. Never having had a pet of her own, our eleven-year-old is equally ecstatic.

Welcome home, Dolce.