The Rat

This rat-like creature has just had a bath. He looked much worse before that.

You may recall from my previous treatise that my wife found a pitiful mangy-looking furry object in our front flower bed late one night. She named him Charlie.

The Cat

Practically a Miracle Transformation

Mr. Fancy Pants, aka, Charlie six months later.

Charlie is doing fine. Being the third male cat living here, and being very young when introduced to the others, Charlie naturally has his work cut out for him.

If you don't know, in social terms, for cats there is only up and down. You are either on top, or you are not. And everyone wants to be on top. And even though the humans don't really play that game, as far as the cats are concerned, they are just big, dumb, ugly cats, and therefore subject to the same rules as any cat. Dominate, or be dominated.

Charlie seems to take this quite seriously.

Elvis takes it all in stride, simply whirling around and hissing when he's had enough. Buster, the 15-pound yellow tabby, toys with the youngster. Charlie, being the youngest, seems to have unlimited energy and presses the game farther than Buster wants sometimes, which results in Charlie getting a thrashing.

Charlie is undeterred.

We are pretty sure Charlie was born to a feral mother. He seems much more instinctually driven than either of the other two rescue cats. But that's just a guess. What we know is he has no fear, and will confidently pick on the other two at will. He is very fast, and quite skillful at hide and seek . . . and ambush.

Mr. Fancy Pants

Charlie has a lot of Siberian characteristics. His coat, his tail and to some degree his attitude fit well with what I can read about the Siberian breed.

I mean, just look at this tail.

When he fuzzes this tail up, oh man, it's a sight to behold. This is its un-fuzzed state.

Charlie has a few hangups, which is understandable given his start. He really doesn't like my boots, but is slowly replacing his abject terror with a more normal wariness. He is partial to the woman who feeds him, but is slowly warming to the ogre who clomps around the house and picks him up now and then. We have agreed that three strokes is enough, and then I am to put him down.

I didn't want a third cat. I didn't want the first two, really, but I do love my wife, so we have them.

It really does warm my heart that we were able to save Charlie from what could have been a really bad and short life. He's got it made now, because there's no way he's going anywhere. He's part of the zoo of five on Martin Road.

Charlie became a thing that works. Nature supported by nurture have created one handsome guy.

Fine, Charlie, you can stay.