How We Got Spark and Spirit

Mrs & the 3 offspring & I were driving home from town by the back way late one night in 2000 or 2001. We turned off the state highway, and there on the shoulder of the county road was a cardboard box, on its side, with two tiny kittens at the opening, just sitting there, mewing.

Someone's cruelty became our joyous burden.

Sister Spirit and brother Spark have seen a lot of fellow felines come & go since then.

Spirit is quite a hunter; Spark & the other guys appreciate her work. She is small, soft, and stands on her hind legs to be petted.

Recently, twice, Spark had injuries to the base of his tail. I've heard owls grab cats by the tail. It's a jungle out there. Spark was raised with an old Beagle and may think he's part dog. Other cats, even his sister, usually give the dogs a respectful distance, but Spark likes to rub his fur in their faces. Dogs know what to do with a cat that runs, but get confused by fearlessness!

Since Buck died, the old man of the house is Spark. He jumped in my lap awhile ago. He's always been a kind of stoic loner, usually outside, so that's rare. His bones are getting old; he spends more time inside in winter now. I can relate. Spirit isn't showing her age as much.

Just a couple of gray short-hair domestic cats. Dear old friends.

Happy, uh, Ferreturday, I guess.