Herman

This is Herman. 

He came into our lives in 1998, I think it was.  I’d gone to the local feed store, and there in the warehouse was this scruffy, starved, half-grown tiger kitten hiding among the bags of grain.  He looked like he’d been through the wars – I’d never seen bones sticking out of an animal like that, and his tail was just a little stub.

He was skittish, but not feral, and there was something about him that I fell for, hard.

The people at the store said he’d just shown up, and they’d started feeding him, but they were hoping to find a good place for him.  So Herman came home with me.

The vet said the thing with his tail was how he was born, not the result of an accident or abuse.  We had him fixed and got rid of the load of worms in his belly.  He filled out and grew up into a good-sized cat.  And he’s been with us ever since, always underfoot, always asking for food (I suspect once an animal has starved they never quite get over it), always in the middle of whatever’s going on, and living this whole time with an almost palpable air of gratitude for the grub and chin-scratches and warm place to sleep that we’ve given him. 

When we lived in rural Pennsylvania he was an indoor/outdoor cat.  Our rabbit infestation disappeared almost overnight.  Rodents did not stand a chance; once he even caught a bat in the house. 

Since we moved to Maine, we keep the cats indoors and Herman doesn’t seem to mind.   He’s as affectionate and playful as ever, although he’s starting to act a little older; not as graceful as he used to be, a little wobbly sometimes. 

Herman had to go to the vet today for a touch of sinus infection.  Even when he’s sick, though, homeslice here still does his thing:  when I got home from work yesterday I was greeted by pieces-parts of mouse scattered around the kitchen floor.  A good mouser is a mixed blessing….