Two weeks changes the entire landscape of the Cat Welfare office - yes, it's still overflowing with cats, but the most popular moved into new homes, the sick by and large beat their ailments. On a Sunday morning, few moments passed without the hiss that signaled one cat invaded another's space.
Two clear favorites emerged: a female labeled "shy" mottled in orange and white, and an affable jet black fellow with brilliant green eyes that accompanied me through the shelter.
The scratches I offered the sad little black one (from the earlier post) turned into him biting at my fingers, so he's fallen down the list. For now. At least he shook off that nasty cough.
By week's end, one moribund apartment in north Clintonville will have new dose of life. This isn't Fall 2005, hope is in short supply and there is no getting ahead in this world, so I might as well spend some of these penniless weekends tossing cloth mice around the living room.
Now I need to hope (that damn word again) one of those cats get overlooked by the potential owners this week.
Before I left, both the black and the orange found quiet niches among the other cats and went to sleep. Call it a touch of fortune for me; people won't become entranced by sleeping cats.
Just as long as they sleep until the end of the week.
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