Rain brings memories.

We had a dear little silver tabby who earned the nickname of ‘the rat’. He was such a complete beast over food and would likely take a person’s hand off to get a treat. He would also growl and swipe if any other life form got near him when he was eating. It really wasn’t his fault. He was found in a box on a range road in the depths of a Canadian winter as a very baby cat of three weeks old. I hand-reared this little guy, but he was left with abiding food issues.

The rain coming down like spears today reminded me of his majesty being trapped by a sudden flash storm across the field that used to be behind our backyard. This small kitten was incensed that his furs were getting wet and he wailed long and loud. Oh yes, we heard him and rushed to his rescue. We got soaked. His majesty was only slightly damp after being saved from the evil rain.

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