Gatto Three

And now we introduce you to the last but certainly not least of our gatti: Lucky, a.k.a. Vlad, a.k.a. Freeky Lips. S and I went our for a post-dinner stoll through the neighborhood one night last summer, about two or three months after we moved into our place. As we walked past an apartment building with a concrete deck overhanging the ground with about a foot of clearance, we heard a pitiful crying noise. We thought maybe it was some sort of bird, but couldn't really tell. Certainly, we didn't think it was a cat. As we walked up the sidewalk toward the sound, out from under the overhang and through a bush came a tiny, gaunt little black kitten, staring us down and crying to us. I picked him up and noticed that he had spots of missing fur all over-- ringworm. He purred as I cradled him and S petted him. He obviously needed some attention and a lot of food.

We asked around the neighborhood, but no one had lost him. We decided to take him home, quaranteen him from Halle and Cosmo, and give him some food before taking him to the vet to get cleaned up. Then we planned to drop him off at the local shelter. Mr. Lucky charmed us, though, and we knew after that first night, we would end up keeping him. These days, Lucky doesn't even remember his disadvantaged time outside. He marches around the house like he owns the place, sprawls out on our laps with his belly in the air, and nips at us if we pet him while he's not in the mood. He often sits on the dining table very upright and properly to look on as S and I eat dinner. He certainly knew who to hit on that night a year ago. Here is the Luckiest cat in DC, posing in his dashing new bandana. Lucky is now just over a year old and loves to terrorize his older brother and sister.