The 7-11 Foundling

Vanessa found Spazz out behind the 7-11, when he was a tiny fluffball. She kept him until her landlord found out, and then, of course, Mom and Jim got him. Mom and Jim already had quite a few cats, and Spazz wanted nothing to do with any of them. He stayed in the workshop for several days, and might be there yet, if Jim hadn't coaxed him out.

We learned to handle him with kid gloves. Actually, the price of kid gloves being what it is these days, oven mitts might be more to the point. Actually, it's Spazz that has the points--a whole mouthful of them, not to mention the ones on the ends of his paws. We learned that he didn't like his tummy touched AT ALL, he's not real wild about being picked up, and as for baths, if he ever needs another one, YOU can come over and give it to him!

He has long hair on his feet, which means that he doesn't have a whole lot of traction. When he jumps up on a table or counter, he tends to slide right off the other side. He has never learned not to do that. It makes him seem like an awful klutz, and not too bright. Of course, he was the only one of our cats who managed to figure out how to open a screen door, both directions.

After a few years, he had outlived quite a lot of the competition, so he was not too thrilled when we started getting more kittens. (We can't help it. People bring us cats, and we keep them. People tell us where to find cats, and off we go to get them.) Spazz did very well, right up to Quinn. He never did like Quinn. Maybe he realized he had been outdone on the cuteness meter--I don't know. Then, when we got Achilles. Well! Spazz more or less said, "Look, it's either me or him!" We are not going to knuckle under to terrorism. So Spazz has spent the better part of this past year being an outdoor cat. Hissing and growling at the other cats, and tearing chunks out of anyone foolhardy enough to pick him up.

Now, with cooler weather approaching, he has decided to come back in. He's still fussing at the other cats, but not nearly as much. He is most insistent about lap time. If he doesn't get it, he stands on the computer keyboard until he does. If I chase him off onto the floor, he's back up again before I have time to blow away the spare hair. He sheds. A lot. He walks around in a cloud of loose fuzz.

In other words, he's beautiful, affectionate, and a total pain in the neck!