I sit and watch the fluffy flakes
descend this Easter morn.
My cat peers in and loudly states
his distaste of this dawn.
I let him in and brush his fur
with bare hand now quite dank.
His pleasure shows with a loud purr
but, “Phew!” this cat has stank!
Here’s a snapshot of our not-quite-feral cat during the previous snow:
He's a cute little fatty. 😀
He's solidly muscular. But now, in his 3rd year, he is getting soft in the belly. He never did learn to properly groom himself, thus the pungent aroma when wet.
Back before the blog, and not long after my father died, I wrote about our decision to capture this creature: