It’s said that cats have nine lives. And one special feline proved this after returning to our home over the past two weeks.
The story begins two years ago. While Joe and I were surveying traffic from our front post, we had a special visitor: a black and white kitten with four white paws, who came back night, after night. We learned that the kitten was part of a litter from the farm next door. Our granddaughter visited the cat family after the litter arrived and recognized the tuxedo kitty from that introduction.
My husband grew up with cats. I did not and honestly didn’t care to take on that responsibility. Particularly, due to a bad experience which took place while I was out-oftown at a James Taylor concert. Upon returning from a down-and- back -trip, I learned that my oldest child and “adopted” two kittens from different owners. I was not very happy. One kitten was OK, but the second must have been inbred because it didn’t take to using the designated litter box. I nicknamed that cat, “Shitty Kitty.”
