Charlie's Tail (And Max's)

Charlie's Tail (and Max's)

I've mentioned my little yellow fuzzy buddy Charlie many times in comments, talked about how we got him, but I don't find that I've ever elaborated his full origin story.

Years ago, we had a feral male cat adopt us. Big black cat, had one of those broad faces; in seeming good health; came by at feeding time so we fed him. Got along with the other cats. Gradually, we got to the point where he would let us pet him, barely. Daughter even picked him up, once, briefly. Max, we called him.

One day Max showed up with a yellow kitten in tow. You know the WB Sylvester cartoon with the big tough dog Butch and the yappy little dog? "What'r we gonna do today, Butch? Huh? Huh?" Max and the kitten reminded me of that.

I could imagine Max telling the kitten, "Hey, I know where some people can feed you and take care of you, kid," while thinking to himself, "and I can scrape you off - I work alone, fellah."

I saw them walking up, and told Milady about it. She walked out to them, and the little kitten let her pick him up and cuddled right up to her. She took him inside the house, and he laid down on the carpet, looking like he'd been with us all his life. He was an instant hit. Tried to name him Chuck, but he became Charlie.

Out-of-town son had dumped his black female cat on us (more on her at a later date) after he left college, and of late she had been getting kind-of mopey. She adopted Charlie, and they became good friends, licking each other, chasing and mock-fighting. Black and orange - our Halloween kittehs.

Charlie got bigger, about the same size as Ony, and he's become a little too rough for her, I think. Their play sounds more like fighting, but they're still nice with each other when he doesn't chase her. When he does, it sounds like a death match, but they seem to survive okay.

Charlie was a great comfort to me through some very trying times. He's still very special, crawling on the bed when I lay down, licking and play-biting my hand. Hurts sometimes, but never breaks the skin.

So, you can imagine that Max was much appreciated for having brought Charlie to us. Several weeks after Max showed up with Charlie, we thought we could get him in a cage and get him to the vet. As I mentioned in comments back in April, 2012, Max never got to the vet. One afternoon I heard the most horrible scream, out west of the house, probably in the woods over the wall. I'm pretty sure it was Max. We never saw him again. But he'll always have a place of honor in our hearts.

Pictures of Charlie: