Toby wishes he'd picked his home more carefully, I know

I picked up this kitten from a parking lot in Pittsburgh, eight years ago. Dr. Mike, my vet of thirty years, told me he weighed barely a pound, was four days old, and probably would not have survived a fifth day. 

All I had to offer him was kibble, reduced to mush in water, and how he fell on it! He wrapped his paws around the custard dish and demolished the contents. My sister was not home, and there were no unilateral decisions made back then, so the kitten and I waited.

"He's so cute!" my sister announced, and so he remained and I started a little blog about a little kitten. She made one further remark of note: "Another longhair!"

Back in the day I was a spinner, and routinely fell for "Can you spin my dog/cat hair into yarn?" And I could, and I did. Eventually I became allergic to cat and dog dander. I used to take antihistamines, and carry on.  Since the stroke, compounded by the TBI, that is totally off the table.

When I left home three years ago, Toby became mine in fact, punctuated by hairballs. I am too allergic to brush him, and Laura disinterested, so hairballs it was. Then I realized my boarding kennel also grooms pets.

They were not too keen on cat grooming, but I convinced them he is a first class woos, so they gave it a try. He indeed is a first class woos, and he's now down to a "short hair" hair cut, every six months.

In the event you don't read cat, 1) that is his back, and 2) those are angry ears. All he has to show for those damn bi-annual trips to Wisconsin is his magnificent tail.

See how he is grey from his arm pits down. That is a phenomena of hair cutting, or shearing.The black on his head and shoulders and tail are because the tips of the hair have never been cut. All the rest has been cut, and refracts light in a different manner than the uncut. Toby thinks there should be a test when you leave.

I had a wonderful time in Wisconsin. Tomorrow or the next day...