Sunday will mark a year since Plywood has taken up residence in our home. It didn’t take him very long to make himself at home – understandable, since a sofa cushion is much more comfortable than a trash can lid. He caught a mouse in the dining room his second week here, proving that he earned his keep, haven’t seen one since!
While he is an affectionate creature, he’s not a lap cat. He follows me around like a dog, sleeps at my feet, and keeps me company in the kitchen when I’m making dinner. He bats at a bell tied to the basement door when he wants it open, stretches across my keyboard when he’s hungry, flops down near his brush when he wants to be groomed, and is underfoot on Sunday mornings when I bring the shopping cart in because he knows there’s a treat for him in one of those bags.
In his own way, I think Plywood appreciates his rescue from the mean streets of South Philly. He licks our hands when we pet him, and purrs like crazy when fed. He even revs his kitty motor when his litter box is being scooped! Of course, the feeling is mutual, we adore him and can’t imagine life without him!