A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far far away…oh, wait…I mean, back in the early 1990s, as my college career was finally wrapping up, I made the acquaintance of a tiny kitten. His name was Martin and he’d been adopted by a friend who’s landlord didn’t care to have a cat living on his property. Martin came to live with me.
He was a crazy little puff of a fellow, who used to climb me like a tree to perch on my shoulder. At night, he’d make a nest in my longish hair and settle in with me. Apparently he needed less sleep than I, as he was fond of batting at my eyes when REM sleep set in…and then we’d both be awake to play. Weee…
Sadly, our landlord was not a cat fan either, and we parted ways. I’d sort of forgotten where he’d ended up in the frenzy that was senior year. And then I heard from friends a year or so ago, and learned that he was still living happily with their family in Georgia (a long way from his Adirondack roots…).
This week, the old man turned sixteen years old and his people sent this along. Doesn’t look it, does he?
Happy Birthday, dude! And my thanks to Tom, Patty and the kids for giving my old pal such a great home and what sounds to be a pretty happy cat life!!
On a totally unrelated note, have you seen the insect below in your garden? I certainly hope so!!
We found this one out behind the restaurant the other day, and I’ve since learned that it is a ladybug larva.
Wouldn’t have guessed that one in a million years. I believe this pic will embiggen nicely, so you can marvel along with me at those crazy tiny branched spines on their back.