That's Jack

You should know that I'm NOT a cat person. I'm very picky about cats. I hate claws that dig into my arms, the threat of their bite scares me more than dogs, and I dislike that you can't really put anything out of reach of a cat. Dogs can only jump so high so items on tabletops and counters are safe ... unless they are food items and are too close to the edge.

I have a story to back up why I am not a cat person. You see, I used to be more of an equal-opportunity animal lover, with only a slight bias toward dogs. One day, Hubby and I decided we were going to get a cat. At the time, we lived in a second-floor apartment in a big complex. We didn't have a fenced in yard or even much indoor space for a dog to run around, so we thought a cat was the perfect solution. And our complex manager said she could get us one for free. Even better! So we set about buying cat toys, beds, food, whatever.

Then Truman the Bengal cat came into our lives. We named the cat Truman in honor of our good ole' Mizzou and we were so excited to have a pet to cuddle and love. But Truman had other ideas. Apparently, this cat didn't get the requisite "people time" that cats really need before they are 13 weeks old. Truman DESPISED us. We had him for about two or three months. In that time, he did not let us touch him once. He bit our vet. He bit Jason. He growled instead of purred. And he alternated between hiding under our couch and sitting above our kitchen cabinets glaring at us.

One day, I was excited because we seemed to be making progress. I was half asleep in bed while Hubby was in the shower. In the back of my mind, I realized Truman had hopped up on the bed. I thought: Yay! He is voluntarily in close proximity to me. Then Hubby came out of the shower and found Truman peeing on the bed, right next to my head.

That was it. But despite the peeing and the biting and the all-around bitchiness, we felt bad about just kicking him out. So we found him a nice home on a farm in a heated barn with many other unadoptable cats.

So you see why I'm scarred?

Somehow, Hubby and I have managed to become the TEMPORARY FOSTER home to an adorable cat we have dubbed "Jack." He showed up on our porch Saturday and hasn't left since. It probably doesn't help that we've started feeding him. We think he belonged to a renter in the neighborhood that probably abandoned him in a move since he showed up right at the end of the month. And he was definitely someone's house cat.

Anyway, he is perfect. He's playful, yet falls asleep in my arms each evening, loves his chin scratched and isn't obnoxious with his claws.

So we are trying to find him a "forever home." I can't bear the thought of just letting him wander around out there. Our neighbor lent us a crate, so he's living on our front porch right now, but Hubby is moving him to the basement today because it's supposed to storm tonight. We can't let him in the house because Josie likes to snack on cats, though Sierra would love him.

I'm taking Jack to a friend's house tomorrow to see if he gets along with her dog, but if that doesn't work out, I don't know what I'll do! Jack can't live in our basement forever! Any takers?