he clawed his way into our hearts

Remember when I said Frankie would be an outside cat? Well, that didn't last long. I'm blaming this one on Peppy, because he would text me pictures of the cat in his office whenever I was at the food bank. And I guess Frankie decided that domesticity was much nicer (and warmer) than being a wild cat. 

So far, so good. In fact I am actually a bit amazed at how well this has turned out so far...even though he's only been inside for a few weeks. Gage has always wanted a cat, but we could never get one because Owsley and I are allergic. For some reason we don't seem to have an allergic reaction to this particular cat.

Cats are kind of like ninjas. I had forgotten how quiet they can be. I will shut all the doors and he will still swagger off and find tiny spaces to hide in. His favorite spots are either on top of me, in a cat bed my sister-in-law gave us, or on the couch in our spare living room. So at least someone is getting to enjoy my beautiful rug and llama pillows. We now refer to it as Frankie's room. 

My early mornings now consist of a cup of coffee, the bible, and a purring cat sleeping on my chest. I've had worse mornings. It is kind of crazy how in about two weeks he went from outside cat to almost a full-time inside cat who comes when we call him, follows us like a dog, and goes on walks in the woods with me and Owsley. I love watching him in the woods because he does all the cool cat stuff, like climbing trees and gracefully walking over tiny limbs. 

After Joey, a less insane animal is a welcome relief, although Owsley and I do want to adopt an older dog in the future. I have been having weird hormonal moods the last few days, which I'm blaming on all the carbs I've inhaled like oxygen this past week. Petting the cat releases that oxytocin love and makes me feel a little better. Even if I never really wanted him inside to begin with.