He's All Ours

 

Sitting on the stove as I eat breakfast. Sep 13, 2022

Tonight's post is about our beloved Rascal #TheCat marking his second anniversary of living with me (and Sean). However, my good friend Dave Torromeo and his family announced they lost their dog, Shea. We send our love and condolences to Dave and his family. As a pet owner, I know the sadness of losing a pet too well. It hurts terribly. 

I've told the story of the arrival of our four-legged friend before. I didn't expect to be a pet owner again after we lose Chico in July, 2020.

Yet pets seem to find us.

If you don't know the story, the short version is I met Rascal -- then called "Binx" -- the night my mother passed. He belonged to my niece Meaghan and her husband Eric and their son Carson.

The black cat nuzzled against me as I ate dinner following a baseball broadcast in Bridgeport. Eric quickly offered to let him come live with me and assured me he was serious. Everyone I told this to said bringing a cat home was the perfect thing.

It was exactly what I needed.

Sep 2020

So I drove him home a little over a week later -- Sept 13, 2020. It took a few days but we quickly became pals.

He was in my face the morning that I was preparing to leave for London and accompanies me to the door almost every day when I try to leave. In fact, he parlays that into a game to get me to give him treats, even darting out of the apartment into the hallway.

A quick shake of the treat package brings him back.

He got treats today in honor of his second anniversary with us.

It's never a boring life with our Rascal/Squeaky/Walter/Crash/Beast/etc. Just last night he woke me up as he tried to attack shadows on the wall behind my bed.

Yes, he's in the sink

It leads Sean and me to ask each other why we got the dysfunctional one. But we say it in a loving, humorous way. He makes us laugh with his yelling at us and flopping on the floor and just general wacky behavior that I can't even explain.

You have to see it to understand it.

While I could do without the yelling at me at 4:30 in the morning to feed him (or the shadow attacks) I don't think I'd have it any other way. He's basically been the perfect addition to our home and those who thought I needed him after Mom died were correct.

He just meowed at me, looking for attention. 

"You squeak," I told him.

"Meow," he squeaked back.

"You're a cat!" I exclaimed.

Such are the exchanges between us.

It's been a pleasure to have him here.

Eric -- the impetus behind Binx coming to New York and being renamed Rascal -- left us only a few months later. Mom's passing, of course, started the whole wheel. 

Out of sadness comes a cat.

A troublemaker.

A Destructocat.

A Beast.

Our pal.