Kitty Litter

Ewood is our token black and white cat. He was left on my mom's doorstep in December 2003 by his mother. We found him, crying piteously, under one of the cars. The next day, we found his mother on the road outside the house, dead. Some asshole ran her over. Poor Ewood originally was given to one of my mom's neighbors, who--a few days later--saw Fomfom and returned him in exchange for her. My softhearted mother couldn't find it in her heart to give him away, ("baka matrauma kasi siya, nareject kasi, kawawa naman!") and he remains with her to this day. He is usually found with his face in the food bowl; methinks he overeats to compensate for his sad kittenhood (heh heh). He's crapped on me twice already; the first time as a kitten, when Polar Bearball still called him "Ratcat."* The second time was this New Year, right at the stroke of midnight. He'd been sedated, and I picked him up to cuddle him. Poor thing--like most of our other cats, who were also sedated--lost control of his bowels and thus, naputukan ako. So I rang in the New Year cleaning crap. I wonder if that's an omen of sorts?

*Why "Ratcat"? He was a skinny, scrawny, bald pink thing with a rattail. Now he's fat, sleek, and sweet. He has a huge two-catpower purring engine which he activates whenever anyone shows the slightest interest in petting him.