Saturday, October 28, 2006



He's laid back, polite (except for those nasty farts) and just a sweetie.

He came from a family of several unrelated cats, two little kids and an adorable pug, so meeting Lizzie the first time was definitely no big deal for him. She, on the other hand, was pretty curious. She followed him around with her nose stuck up his butt for probably a half hour. To quote a talking dog on the remake of Dr. Doolittle, "You can tell a lot about a person by sniffing his butt."

They wrestled around for a while, and she got a little rough. He escaped to the footstool and she wandered around, looking for him while he watched her from his "safe spot". Didn't take him long to figure out how to avoid her when he's had enough. And Lizzie, bless her little ferrety heart, just isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. If something isn't right in front of her, she just doesn't see it.

Right now, they're just about the same size. But I'm thinkin in a month or two, he's gonna be able to kick her ass when he's had enough.

When we went to bed last night, I carried him along...just so he'd know where to go. He curled up on my pillow, on top of my head and settled in.

Until he started farting.

Oh. My. Gawd.

They've evidently been feeding him rotting cadavers.

Oh, and why "Elwood", you might ask? Well, The Blues Brothers is one of our favorite movies. It's quirky. It's masculine. It's simple. It's got a lotta style. And plenty of bastardizations.

Elwood. The Big "EL". Woody (Well...until we have his nuts cut, anyway)

It just "fits".


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