When Kenneth was feral he went by the more sanguine name Dark Darting Shadow of Pouncing Sinew. "Shadow" for short.
Shadow refused to come within ten feet of the house. And that was even without the door being held open by a human who was beseeching him to "please come in out of that godawful freezing rain, it's coating your coat already and the forecast says the temperature is still plunging." The open door and the pleading human basically doubled the minimum distance Shadow would keep between himself and the house.
Out near the woods or inside the barn it was a different story. Out there, Shadow was more than happy to climb into a lap to be hugged and cuddled and to allow kiss after kiss on his rodent-stained nose.
In the summer of his third year, Shadow dueled a neighbor tom for the love of a hot she-cat at the peak of her estrus. The neighbor tom lost the lady to Shadow, but he also left one bacterial claw and a rotting tooth in Shadow's right shoulder muscle.
After the trapping, the anesthetic, the surgery and three days on an antibiotic IV drip, Shadow was both exhausted and feeling stronger, if that makes any sense. He also started having bizarre dreams where everybody was calling him Kenneth.
Less than a week after what Shadow had no way of knowing was the last time he would calm the desperate cries of an overly consensual feline in heat, the people brought him home from the vet and carried him, caged, beyond his ten-foot buffer zone, right into the warm house that just about knocked him out, it smelled so strongly of cleanliness. While getting him settled in, they named him Kenneth.
At first, they had to be careful lest Kenneth try to run out a door as someone came in or went out. These days, though, he enjoys his comfort so much they can leave the door open all they want because he wouldn't trade his bed and toys and crunchy cat mix and the heater vent in the living room for anything in the world.
The people laugh and think it's so cute when Kenneth occasionally licks condensation from the glass as he gazes out the front window overlooking the bird feeder.
Kenneth feels the same way about them when they watch reality television, and he's waiting for the day they lean forward to lick their window on the world they traded for the comfort of seeing it reenacted at a reasonable distance.
Shadow refused to come within ten feet of the house. And that was even without the door being held open by a human who was beseeching him to "please come in out of that godawful freezing rain, it's coating your coat already and the forecast says the temperature is still plunging." The open door and the pleading human basically doubled the minimum distance Shadow would keep between himself and the house.
Out near the woods or inside the barn it was a different story. Out there, Shadow was more than happy to climb into a lap to be hugged and cuddled and to allow kiss after kiss on his rodent-stained nose.
In the summer of his third year, Shadow dueled a neighbor tom for the love of a hot she-cat at the peak of her estrus. The neighbor tom lost the lady to Shadow, but he also left one bacterial claw and a rotting tooth in Shadow's right shoulder muscle.
After the trapping, the anesthetic, the surgery and three days on an antibiotic IV drip, Shadow was both exhausted and feeling stronger, if that makes any sense. He also started having bizarre dreams where everybody was calling him Kenneth.
Less than a week after what Shadow had no way of knowing was the last time he would calm the desperate cries of an overly consensual feline in heat, the people brought him home from the vet and carried him, caged, beyond his ten-foot buffer zone, right into the warm house that just about knocked him out, it smelled so strongly of cleanliness. While getting him settled in, they named him Kenneth.
At first, they had to be careful lest Kenneth try to run out a door as someone came in or went out. These days, though, he enjoys his comfort so much they can leave the door open all they want because he wouldn't trade his bed and toys and crunchy cat mix and the heater vent in the living room for anything in the world.
The people laugh and think it's so cute when Kenneth occasionally licks condensation from the glass as he gazes out the front window overlooking the bird feeder.
Kenneth feels the same way about them when they watch reality television, and he's waiting for the day they lean forward to lick their window on the world they traded for the comfort of seeing it reenacted at a reasonable distance.
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