Toby

If you look at my cat Toby, you’d probably think he’s just another gray cat.  Both Toby and I would beg to differ.  I learned about my gray pal via the local craiglist.  Apparently some lady’s husband let the female cat out accidentally, and not having been spayed in a timely manner (thank you oh absent minded husband!), she fell in love with the neighbor’s Russian Blue for a night and viola: six furry mew-mews and a mama.  And one angry housewife of course.

Not being full bred Blues, and not wanting to be a full-time cat nanny, the wife posted these six little bits at 6-8 weeks of age.  I researched Russian Blue traits and found the behavioral aspects of Blues to be completely compatible with all I’d ever wanted in a cat.  I also loved every physical nuance of them, which I came to notice and appreciate as time went by.

Toby and one of his sisters came home with me and a roommate I had at the time.  The sister cat, named Zoey, belonged to my roommate.  Toby and Zoey were welcome additions to what became a crazy-cat-lady phase for my single friend and I.  It’s only natural that two single women in their 30’s discover the joys and wonders, the laughs, and the smells, of a multi-cat home. It was a lesson in responsibility however.  Yes, both of us have walked the “walk of shame” of irresponsible pet ownership.  We peaked at 8 cats.  It is a time I cherish, but I am saddened that 6 of those kitties were given new homes.  Only my Toby and Timba remain.

I will probably muse about the good ol’ days in future posts, because they fashioned my love of cats into what it is today. They also fashioned my commitment to my two forever cats, who will be with me as long as they live, as long as I have breath, no matter what.  I hope someday to be married to a crazy cat guy so I can again live in a multi-cat home.  Yes, I’d settle for my own home and maybe a total of 4 cats.  But for now, the two boys who trot all over me and leave paw prints on my heart are quite enough to satisfy the cat-lover in me, and have enough quirks and antics to keep me blogging for years.

But back to the early days.  When I saw Toby, I didn’t just see his kitten face.  I saw his adult face, a regal looking cat to which the stately name “Tobias” popped into mind.  I looked up the name and was delighted to see that it means “The Lord is good.” However, 8 weeks of pent-up kitten energy in no way prepared my little one to accept a name like Tobias, so we went with Toby. He likes it, I like it, and both him and his name still let me know that God is definitely good.

Toby is a loverboy of a cat.  He just turned 2 on December 6, 2012.  He is still playful, but has plateaued in that respect.  He is a peaceful being who loves to sit in my arms, uttering an adorable sigh once he has settled comfortably after a sufficient petting. He used to be my sleeping pal, but leaving my door open at nights conditioned him for far more adventurous things during the night.  I am content that he seeks me out several times during the day or the evening.  I have learned to accept his “catness’, his affection ADD-ness, whatever it is called.  That’s just him. He is a sweet boy to the core and I can’t wait to share more about him and how wonderful he makes life.

Handsome boy - is that a Mona Lisa smile?

My sweet Russian Blue

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