As I mentioned earlier this week, my mom, sister and I went to Knitter's Frolic in Toronto on Saturday. What I didn't mention is that we left at 6am and were home around 7pm which left my cat in the caring hands of my father.
Over the years, my dad has declared himself pet negative. He LOVES dogs, and grew up with many of them, but didn't really want one. Unfortunately for him, the cat he got my mom for her 28th birthday (I think) managed to live nearly 20 years before we had to put her down, which was an act of mercy. Phoebe was a fighter and a trooper, and in the end we thought putting her down was more humane than letting her yowl her for a three day drive on our move from Houston to Ottawa when I was 14 (sedation wasn't an option because of her heart).
Since Phoebe we have had a few other cats (which I will tell you more about later, because there have been some characters), but they have been all outdoor cats.
When I got Jack, I knew he had to be an indoor cat because I live in a 4th floor apartment. This meant that when we visit my parents he would be allowed in the house, the first cat to be allowed that privilege since Phoebe (although as she got older she preferred to be outside all the time, we were living in Houston and for a cat from Montreal, it was a pretty cush life).
My parents agreed he would be allowed in their house, but my dad made it clear, while he was a cute kitten, he would become a cat and less worthy of affection.
However, Jack has decided that my dad is the best guy in the whole world, and while the we were in Toronto for Frolic, my dad was taking care of Jack and sending me the occasional update by text. Apparently, the do really like each other.
What a little suck up! When I'm working at my computer all Jack wants to do is chew on my fingers or sit on my keyboard. I guess he just doesn't like me as much as he likes my dad, I think I will survive.