Two years ago I met and fell in love with this beauty. He’s a gorgeous, skinny, fearful-yet-friendly rag doll cat whom the girls named Marsh. Because he’s fluffy, like a marshmallow, but he’s also a boy, and Marsh is a manly name, they explained.
We also call him Mystery Cat. Murder Cat. Mom’s Boyfriend. Mr. E. Murder Paws. Baby. I call all of our animals “Baby.” Rush, the hateful turtle, secretly likes to be called that, but if she tells you, she’ll kill you.
My husband is allergic to cats, so I fed and loved on Marsh outside. For two years.
He started out skinny and afraid, but as you can see, he’s fluffed up considerably. My trusting beauty.
Last week Luke was gone for work, so I took Marsh to be examined, vaccinated, neutered, and microchipped. He stayed inside to recuperate, and then he ran free to the outdoors that he desperately craved. The house was sanitized so my sweet husband could, you know, breathe and stuff. I was afraid Marsh would be wary of coming back, but he still shows up like clockwork, three times a day, for food and snuggles.
Anyway, he is my love. He is literally the reason I got up in the morning during this last difficult summer. His loud, Siamese-style meow wouldn’t be ignored.
Welcome to the family, Marsh Cat! Do any of you have pets who wandered into your life and chose you as their human? If so, I’d love to hear about it!