A Break From NaNoWriMo

Not in the writing sense- oh no, the word count is up over 13k as we speak- but in the sense that I'm not subjecting you to an excerpt tonight. Instead I'm going to give you a little slice-o-the-O-life. Heh. I like that. You've been warned...

You may remember the photo-tie-in to this entry. If not, you can skip that link and just go straight to this one. See that kitty there? He's been hanging out around our house for months, and I'd started feeding him and such. But he was not my cat, by golly. Sure, I named him Bagheera and brushed him and made sure he had food and water and was going to take him in to get him neutered but he was not. my. cat. Because we absolutely could not afford another friggin' cat with all the vet bills and feeding and destruction to hearth and home. Definitely, 100% not our cat. (You know how that goes). Got it? Good.

Now we turn to a little grey-tabby cat named Kenobi. Kenobi came to live with us (us being the nuclear family of me, my brother, and my mom) when I was about 14 or so. Which would make her about 15 today. Except she isn't 15 today, because she died recently. It was her time, and I'm glad she's in the Summerlands now, where she doesn't have to put up with arthritis, and can jump on any counter she wants. Plus she gets to see Klawtu and Baron again, so that's probably pretty good. But anyway, the point is that because of her moving on, there was a certain cat-shaped hole in the lives of my mom and step-dad.

O to the rescue, my friends. O to the rescue.

We lay in wait for our inky friend, and when he made an appearance (he was gone for a few days and I was starting to worry) we pounced on him, stuffed him in a carrier, and drove him down to Prattville, where we established him in what is probably the best possible place for any cat to live, ever. Seriously. If I die, I want to come back as one of my mom's cats.

Bagheera took it all in stride, and as we left my mom was coming up with a suitable name for him (we name cats with "k" sounds in our family- which is why I gave Bagheera the moniker I did; to reinforce that he was not my cat). The great thing is that she settled on one that leapt into our minds almost simultaneously (always a good sign when naming something). Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Khanji (deliberately misspelled for the purposed of calling him Khaaaaaaan!).

Now let's just hope he's as healthy as he seems...