Picture this: I am Marilyn Monroe. Newbie is JFK. It's his birthday.
Cake is optional.
We consider Newbie to be 10 years old, today. We picked him up at the Tatamagouche Farmer's Market during the Thanksgiving weekend in 2006. A woman was literally giving away a basket of kittens, each of which had a little ribbon around its neck. Patricia wandered over to see what the commotion was about. She picked up the kitten that had a little heart-shaped button nose.
We got him back to the cottage. That evening, we were wondering what to call him. "After all", I said, "everything is new to him. He's like a... Newbie!" And the name stuck.
He was so damned small when we got him that when I first got him back to Halifax, I stored him in the upstairs bathroom when I went to work. The litterbox would be at one end, while his small carrier and his food and water bowls were at the other. I'd leave the shower radio on for him. He was probably the youngest cat to listen to the Rick Howe Show/The Hotline, evah.
At night, I'd let him out of the bathroom. He'd prowl around the house. When I went to bed, he'd eventually join me. Too young and weak to jump on to the bed, he would have to grab a blanket, and haul himself up it to the bed. Kind of sweet, actually.
Over the years, he grew from that little scrap of fur to this mountain lion of a cat. He curls up on my lap when I am in the recroom watching the tube. He often times joins me here in my home office when I am writing my Frank columns, or these blog posts, resting at my feet.
He is a pain in the ass. He is confounding. He is a cat. And he provides great companionship to us both, especially since Cindy died in 2014. He gets on our nerves by times, but we love him.
Newbie, where you, boy? Time for your birthday spanking!!
See you tomorrow.