The Year Of The Cat

Yesterday marked the one-year mark of Harry’s stay here, though I’ve been taking care of him on and off since 2010, and I’ve known “The Prince” since Christmas evening of 2008.

I guess I’ve always seen what’s special about him when others haven’t. Had I not taken him in last year, he probably would have been put down because he doesn’t seem to get along with other cats all that well, as evidenced by the YouTube clip and some of the blogs in the past year.

It all began that Christmas in ’08. After having dinner with my landlord for Yuletide Day, I sat over on a couch and felt a tapping on my arm that was draped over the top of the coach. Harry, then a little over 5 months old, reached up to tap me on the arm with his paw, and needless to say, it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

I’ve had a couple of cats before. Right after high school in 1989 or thereabouts, I took in a cat we named Sparky, a cute little black cat that had strayed away from its owners who eventually got back wherever he was from. When I was an infant, I’m told we had a cat named Finnegan who roamed my old southwest Largo neighborhood a bit too freely. One morning in the 70’s, he took a rest right under a neighbor’s car, and got run over when he didn’t wake up to move in time. It wasn’t a traumatic experience for me or anything, as I was too young to remember it.

All these years later, Harry’s been a good companion for me in my middle age. Glad to have him around, hopefully for many more years ahead.


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