Cat Picture of the Week: Paris
Paris knew a "soft touch" when she saw one. Her story was so similar to my Jenny's that I wonder if tri-color cats share some sort of sixth sense.
Paris came to us on a hot summer evening, strolling seductively onto our back patio, and joined our cookout festivities. She spoke to me in her now characteristic tones used when she wants a particular type of attention, or possibly a treat. The burgers were done, and as we retreated inside the house, I offered her half of one of the slightly rare patties, which she accepted without protest. We said goodbye to her, and went inside commenting on how friendly and cute she was with her tortie colors, speculating her age to be around six months old.
As time passed into late summer, fall, and into early winter, Paris became a permanent resident on our patio, and patrolled our property diligently, obviously adopting us. My wife and I, quite frankly, resisted becoming totally attached, as we had enjoyed the "empty nester" life for the duration of our marriage of eleven years at that time. We really did not want the responsibility that goes along with the commitment to a pet.
As the weather became more severe, I became more concerned. I made her a shelter, which she never used, preferring the cold concrete step at the back door. Finally, we decided to let her in with the stipulations that she wouldn't get on the antiques or try to sleep with us. Everyone can guess how long that lasted. That was two years ago.
We named her Paris, as she was an exceptionally social cat, and I affectionately call her Paris the Cat. Paris has never been back outside our home, and totally possesses the household. She now gets her tuna meal every morning, and her grooming by my wife.
I am the playmate, as she likes to tear through the house, playing hide and seek. She has her toys that appear, and disappear, her favorite being a little furry catnip mouse, which was the first one we gave her. She knows where "The Mouse" is at all times, and actually talks to it. I constructed perches in all our windows for her to relax on while she watches the birds and squirrels, and basks in the sunlight. She meets us at the door with greetings and affection every time we enter the house, and waits patiently for my wife to cover her lap with Paris's favorite light quilt, so she can nap in the evening while we watch television and talk.
We now cannot imagine what our life would be like without our Paris the Cat.
© Fred Scott
Paris came to us on a hot summer evening, strolling seductively onto our back patio, and joined our cookout festivities. She spoke to me in her now characteristic tones used when she wants a particular type of attention, or possibly a treat. The burgers were done, and as we retreated inside the house, I offered her half of one of the slightly rare patties, which she accepted without protest. We said goodbye to her, and went inside commenting on how friendly and cute she was with her tortie colors, speculating her age to be around six months old.
As time passed into late summer, fall, and into early winter, Paris became a permanent resident on our patio, and patrolled our property diligently, obviously adopting us. My wife and I, quite frankly, resisted becoming totally attached, as we had enjoyed the "empty nester" life for the duration of our marriage of eleven years at that time. We really did not want the responsibility that goes along with the commitment to a pet.
As the weather became more severe, I became more concerned. I made her a shelter, which she never used, preferring the cold concrete step at the back door. Finally, we decided to let her in with the stipulations that she wouldn't get on the antiques or try to sleep with us. Everyone can guess how long that lasted. That was two years ago.
We named her Paris, as she was an exceptionally social cat, and I affectionately call her Paris the Cat. Paris has never been back outside our home, and totally possesses the household. She now gets her tuna meal every morning, and her grooming by my wife.
I am the playmate, as she likes to tear through the house, playing hide and seek. She has her toys that appear, and disappear, her favorite being a little furry catnip mouse, which was the first one we gave her. She knows where "The Mouse" is at all times, and actually talks to it. I constructed perches in all our windows for her to relax on while she watches the birds and squirrels, and basks in the sunlight. She meets us at the door with greetings and affection every time we enter the house, and waits patiently for my wife to cover her lap with Paris's favorite light quilt, so she can nap in the evening while we watch television and talk.
We now cannot imagine what our life would be like without our Paris the Cat.
© Fred Scott
Source...