Cat Named Jack is officially one year old this week. Next Mother's Day will mark the one year anniversary of the fateful day the man spied a tiny, dirty wad of kitten on the side of the road and the day that we added a ferocious dingo bobcat to the family.
Jack is no longer quite as vicious, but this side of him still manifests itself on occasion. Since the departure of the dickbag and his girlfriend (aka our former roommates), Jack has been freewheeling around the second floor of our house and has now adopted their old room (our den/refuge) as his room. Their departure and the addition of two rooms to his kingdom have made Jack a very content being.
The last few months have marked an increased appreciation of "nice" attention and he's become more of a cuddle ball and less of a bastard asshole intending to rip my flesh from my bones. I do believe in miracles.
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