Cats in Sinks
February 10, 2007
It took me along time to warm up to cats.
Cats are sneaky. They don't come when you call them. And the only thing that keeps them from eating you is the size difference.
However, back in 2001, my daughter brought home a kitten that she found in a trash can. Even hard-hearted me couldn't turn this one down. And within a week Abby (aka Rotten Cat) had turned me around, cat-opinion-wise.
She loved to ride around on my shoulders and purr. And yes, she was sneaky and didn't come when I called her.
Rotten Cat went out one day and didn't come back. I would like to think that someone found her irresistible and took her in. That's probably not true, but I'd like to think so anyhow.
Six months later, my daughter located a kitten while volunteering her time at an animal shelter. This one had suffered a broken hip, which had since been healed. However, she walked with a pronounced limp.
Additionally, the stinking thing was totally white, except for an insanely half-black face. And a black tail, illogically enough.
After we adopted her, as we most certainly had to at that point, my wife named her Sophie. I never use that moniker, of course. Nope, this one is Honky Cat.
Honky Cat talks to me. ONLY to me. My son or wife (the daughter is gone and married now) can call her be name and she'll ignore them. But when I do it, she meows. EVERY SINGLE TIME!
So, in Honky Cat's honor, I present today's FamilyFirst site: Cats in Sinks. It speaks for itself. Enjoy.


