Smog in the Garden

Back in September, I found a pathetic starving injured kitten stumbling alongside of the road. We kept him our bathroom, until he was strong enough to be exposed to other cats, and to nap in our garden. He was a bony, bald mess of a cat, who stumbled instead of walking. When we let him out of the bathroom, he would roam our house with a strange zombie-like intensity. He was terribly feeble, unstable and slow, but he'd never stop moving. We wondered at the time if the cat would ever display any personality. He seemed to exist in a sort of haze. This was one of the reasons it took so long to name him.

Because his pelvis had been so badly damaged, because he was starving, and because he was anemic from his flea infestation, Smog was incapable of using his hind legs normally. When he wanted to get up on our bed, or the couch, he would haul himself up with his front paws. It was almost scary to see him do this. For being so weak, he had a ferocious intensity. He was like a paraplegic mountain climber. It was freaky to watch.





Today, Robb was walking past our persimmon tree, and noticed that our chubby frisky kitten Smog had learned to climb trees. (Pardon the camera-phone picture) Smog was playing a spirited game of "Chase Me" with his Big Uncle Sleeves.

Smog has transformed into a hilarious playful teenager, and quite a cuddly ball of fluff. We'll never lose the joy of experiencing the improvement in this cat.

And, nope. Linguine still hasn't warmed up to him. Smog tries to snuggle up to her, and she producing the most uncanny repertoire of menacing growls. There's no fighting. Smog desperately wants to play, and Linguine just wants to be left alone.