Crazy

In October of 2013 I made an impulsive visit to the local Humane Society, and even more impulsively, adopted this gorgeous 6-mo-old marbled tabby boy. My recurring thought during the next month or so: “What…the hell… was I thinking!?” I named him Zephyr, after a wind god in Greek mythology, and it suited him – he was a furry little tornado! He ate any and every item of food in sight, feline or human. All efforts to curb his counter surfing failed. He had a peculiar taste for fabric; he chewed and destroyed two sweaters, a winter hat, a fleece blanket, and numerous socks. He tried to escape every time I opened the front door. He terrorized Emmy, my dainty tortoiseshell. He bit my fingers every time I tried to pet him (playfully, but still painfully). And on top of it all, he ravaged my bank account – I paid the vets over $1000 in that first month for vaccinations, an intestinal infection, and emergency care after he poisoned himself by eating onions! I thought about taking him back to the shelter. Seriously. He was driving me nuts! But I didn’t want to have paid all those vet bills for nothing. And he did have one endearing habit: every night he came to bed with me, curled up beside my pillow, and purred himself to sleep. It was enough. I kept him. It’s been two years now. Zephyr’s still rambunctious and into everything, still fights with Emmy about once a week, still play-bites, still surfs the kitchen counters. He no longer purrs himself to sleep at night, and instead takes over the end of my small bed. Thank heaven, he outgrew the fabric chewing and is a little more discriminating about what he eats. And he still drives me nuts sometimes! He’s also a playful, constantly entertaining creature who makes me laugh on a daily basis and snuggles up on my lap when he’s cold. He may be crazy, but he's my kind of crazy and I wouldn't have him any other way!
Rose Ludwig
Colorado Springs, CO