Boo as a kitten in 2013. His cat bed sleeping techniques have always been a bit unconventional.
After a hot summer (even for Phoenix) October set records for rainfall halfway into the month. I didn’t do any hiking when it was raining, these were not the gentle rains of Oregon, these were Noah-build-the-ark deluges. These storms lacked the thunder and lightning of the summer monsoons so Sam was rather nonplussed.
We adopted Boo about five months after the death of Scout, another black-and-white cat. Their patterns were different enough that most of the time it wasn’t hard on me but in the early days at some angles I’d draw my breath in as he reminded me so much of her. The hardest time for me was when he was getting comfortable in his new home, even though in general it was a great relief as we were concerned the other two cats and the dog would be too much for the terrified little fellow. He started curling up in the cat bed beside me and for a couple of weeks I’d see him out of the corner of my eye and think it was Scout and feel a pinprick of grief before having it washed away with joy that Boo was home, and knew it.
When he was younger, sometimes you’d look up and see Boo staring straight into your soul. From the get-go he has been part mystic and part goofball, effortlessly transitioning between the two. The staring stopped as he grew older but the rest holds true even today. This is from 2013, a few months after we adopted him.
We discovered early on that Boo had no bones, this was a common sleeping pose a couple of months after we adopted him in 2013. The clock with the translation of a proverb attributed to the Zuni I bought at an art fair in Salem years ago. Though it no longer works I keep it out as I bought it for the art not the clock.