After making the decision that we wanted to adopt a new family member, we went down to the T. Russell Reitz shelter here in Manhattan and began poking our fingers in cages and talking up the fuzzy kitties. (You know we all make those cutesy noises, so feel free to insert your own here to get in the right mind-frame for the story) They came in every size, shape, and color. Some were fat, some were thin, some were young, some were old. However, one in particular tickled my fancy. Per my habit of making things far harder than they have to be, I chose a 3 year old black cat that wasn’t yet cleared for adoption. The day he came up I was coming back in town from a conference so I had the family go down right when they opened and sit in a room with him until I get there to really road test him without anyone else snagging him. Rumor had it that several people were coming in to look at him.
Cats are funny creatures. They love you or they don’t. Luckily for me, he had my number from the start. I sat down on the floor with him and he climbed up on my lap. He bullied himself under my hand when I stopped petting him, purred louder when we were talking to anyone but him, and batted at the strings on my laces when I was on my feet. “What a moose!” was said more than once. An hour later, Moose was tucked away safely in my arms and we were headed home. Once home he was stalking everything that moved, and some things that didn’t...earning his nick-name…The Mighty Foosa.
‘All the villagers run in fear…when the mighty Foosa is near!!!’
Even if you aren't in the market for a new furry friend, it's always fun to stop in when they are open to play with the residents.
Congrats to Ladybug Rose, Semmels123, Konza Coyote, and Rawr17