Thomas
Some petty son of a bitch abandoned his cat.
The poor creature sauntered up to my father while he was taking out the trash, and because it was so incredibly emaciated, he couldn't figure what it was at first glance; haven't figured the gender either, the hair beneath its tail was so terribly matted that it's difficult to tell. We managed to clip most of it off--he (assuming by the facial features, at this point) wasn't pleased with that, even attempted to gnaw on my father's finger...but he couldn't put up a fight if he wanted to. He is quite possibly the most amiable cat I have ever crossed paths with, and some filthy excuse of a man left him behind; even after losing his owner, he still manages a kind heart and a tremendous trust in humans.
Mother said he "looks like a Thomas...come 'ere, Thomas~"
One can only imagine where my mind went, after that. The cat is a beautiful long-haired tabby, an orange-creme color (much like this, with far more beautiful eyes). Come now; how does that cat not look like a Jefferson?
We're taking him to the vet tomorrow to check for ear mites, intestinal parasites, worms, and other possible diseases. It doesn't look as though he has any fleas (save for one dead tick), and he has a healthy set of teeth and gums. No broken bones, one small laceration, and a whole lot of matted fur. He'll be better within the next three weeks...I just hope he'll get used to the other animals in time.
Finished! And incredibly peeved because I just endured a heated argument about the man's clothing. My benighted friend was convinced that the picture was a prince/princess affair--despite the tri-corn hat, Continental Army uniform and enormous Grand Union flag in the backdrop. Then the peon continued to denounce Jefferson by proclaiming that he ran about with "black women"--never proven. Guh! It's people who climb on the fallacious historical bandwagon like that that make me so bloody angry.
The poor creature sauntered up to my father while he was taking out the trash, and because it was so incredibly emaciated, he couldn't figure what it was at first glance; haven't figured the gender either, the hair beneath its tail was so terribly matted that it's difficult to tell. We managed to clip most of it off--he (assuming by the facial features, at this point) wasn't pleased with that, even attempted to gnaw on my father's finger...but he couldn't put up a fight if he wanted to. He is quite possibly the most amiable cat I have ever crossed paths with, and some filthy excuse of a man left him behind; even after losing his owner, he still manages a kind heart and a tremendous trust in humans.
Mother said he "looks like a Thomas...come 'ere, Thomas~"
One can only imagine where my mind went, after that. The cat is a beautiful long-haired tabby, an orange-creme color (much like this, with far more beautiful eyes). Come now; how does that cat not look like a Jefferson?
We're taking him to the vet tomorrow to check for ear mites, intestinal parasites, worms, and other possible diseases. It doesn't look as though he has any fleas (save for one dead tick), and he has a healthy set of teeth and gums. No broken bones, one small laceration, and a whole lot of matted fur. He'll be better within the next three weeks...I just hope he'll get used to the other animals in time.
Finished! And incredibly peeved because I just endured a heated argument about the man's clothing. My benighted friend was convinced that the picture was a prince/princess affair--despite the tri-corn hat, Continental Army uniform and enormous Grand Union flag in the backdrop. Then the peon continued to denounce Jefferson by proclaiming that he ran about with "black women"--never proven. Guh! It's people who climb on the fallacious historical bandwagon like that that make me so bloody angry.
