Introducing "Stanley"

 

 I find it interesting, and a little bit disturbing, that when I take a little time off of blogging, that I end up getting more views, than when I’m active. I’m not entirely sure what that says about my skills as a blogger, at any rate, I’m back.

I took some time off because I have added a new addition to my family. Back in March, a week before the lock-down, I decided that I wanted a pet. At this point in my life, I didn’t want the work of a dog. Not that I don’t love them, I do; I am a total dog person, but the training, the walking, going outside in winter — the dog not me I never go outside — all seemed like a bit much. A year ago I played host to my number two son, daughter-in-law, and their two cats while they were awaiting completion of their new home. I really enjoyed those cats.

As soon as I decided to get one, the lock-down hit and the local shelters were closed. They recently reopened, and I paid them a visit. I made the mistake of going with my number two son, Andrew. All animals on planet earth love Andrew, they always have done. When we walked into the Kitty Kottage at the shelter, every cat in the place headed straight for him, turning their backs on me. One cat, in a cage because he had not yet been tested for feline leukemia, and was known to be a bit of a biter, gave me the once over. Because that was the only cat that would let me pet him (and he bit me too), I immediately knew that he was the one. After four visits, and one more bite, I brought him home.

The workers at the shelter gathered around me as I was ready to take Stanley home, and thanked me for taking a chance on him. They added that he was the kind of cat who could end up spending years in a shelter. As soon as I got in the car I wondered what the heck I had done. I know nothing about cats, and now I am bringing one home to live with me; not just any cat, but one who has a bit of a reputation.

We are now eight days into it, and while Stanley has vacated his pumpkin bed (shown in the picture above) that had been given to him at the shelter, and with which he immediately bonded, he has yet to venture far from beneath my bed. He is eating and using his litter box, so I’m just going to let him call the shots.

My intention, because I love British mysteries, was to give him either a British name, or one associated with mystery. Because I couldn’t make the British thing work, I decided to name him after a favorite mystery writer, namely the one who wrote the Perry Mason novels. So my cat’s new name is Erle Stanley Gardner, Stanley for short. I think it will work for both of us. Stay tuned!