One day in October, as Mother and I were coming home from grocery shopping, there was this small kitten, with patches of fur missing from his tail. the dogs nearly pounced him, but mother stopped them, and we went inside, waiting for it to leave. this whole process repeated a few times, until Father finally decided to keep it in the garage and try to get it adopted.
then, mid November, a cold front passed through and we couldn't keep him in the garage, which was close to the outside temperature. they moved him to the basement, where is where I spent most of the day. after a many long days of me trying to understand a cat and asking anyone to take him, there was a family vote as to keep him or not.
now, 8 months later, his name is Willy, he's a growing cat with a full coat of fur, and I think I'm the first real friend he's ever had. he still lives with us.
he's wounded me about 6 times at this point(the most recent one is still visible), bites me even while laying in my lap, but I don't feel spiteful about it, and I think he's just really wanting to hunt something. he's killed 2 mice, wounded and cornered another(a dog got it), and the rest more or less moved out after that.
the story with the 2 dogs(both lasting first impressions) and the other cat(mother's friend's relative was having trouble with the cat disturbing the baby) aren't half as interesting.
