Once upon a time, My friend’s cat had kittens. And the only survivor of the litter was half-grey, and half black. He was named “Stormy Clouds” after a song a friend of mine wrote. He was a great kitten. And as he grew up, the grey went, but the name stuck.
Then I went to NYC for a month, leaving him in the care of my roommates. When I came back for him, he wasn’t as sweet, or as trusting as he was before I left. But he still trusted me, so it was OK. He and his father/Uncle Damien moved with us to NYC, and he was happy, but still a little strange, here and there. We came home, he was OK. We moved to a new house, and he was OK. His behavior had shifted, and hew was a little…weird, but nothing we couldn’t handle. (We blamed it on the fact that his father and his mother are siblings)
But when Ray was born, he went a little crazy. He sprayed things. He fought with the other cats. Constantly. He became a problem. And Renee told me it was her or the cat, and that she’d take him to the humane society herself if I didn’t do something. And my sister took him in, with their four cats. And after a time he was happy there, although still prone to fits of his old, less than perfect, behavior.
And now, they have a new house and a young child. And again, he falls back to his old habits, and now I must find him a new home, or he will go to the county shelter. And I fear that if he goes to the shelter, he will not live to see the end of the month. he needs love and tolerance. And someone he can love back, too. Because he will.
if you, or anyone you know, can help out, tell me. Soon.