Anyone remember Crybaby, the neighborhood cat who adopted us at a previous home (and who took a liking to lounging lazily in our bird bath)? When we left that house, all of us had a hard time saying good-bye to Crybaby. She was a sweetheart, affectionate and vocal and loving. She was the only cat I have ever known who gave hugs!
We debated taking her with us, but as a hard-core, life-long outdoor cat, we knew she would be miserable trapped inside. I left a bag of cat food in the empty kitchen for the next tenant and had reassurances from the landlord that she would be taken care of.
I’ve worried about her ever since we left. The house was rented and then sold since we moved out, and I stressed that the new owners wouldn’t take care of her, feed her, or let her inside when the weather turns cold.
Gary had an appointment on that side of town not long ago, and he had good news for me when he got home. He drove by the old house, and there, curled up comfy as could be in a sunbeam in the front window, was Crybaby, dozing and content and peaceful. Apparently she turned on her charm with the new household, and it worked! I was relieved she is loved by her new family. I wonder if she has tricked them yet into believing she can’t get down from the roof?