A year ago, we found this little guy and his three brothers in an old shed that Dan was tearing down.
I begged to keep him, and Dan's exact words were, "Whatever. But if you keep it, it's YOUR CAT." (Little did Dan know that he'd be changing the litter for 9 months because his wife was going to go and get all pregnant.)
I picked this particular guy because there were no girls and he looked the least likely to die. (Yes, likeliness to die was my determining factor. No worries, we took his brothers to the animal hospital.)
I named him Jasper. He slept on a heating pad, and I fed him out of a bottle for a long time.
Then he grew up and got a little ornery.
His relationship with Dan is still strained. He still beats Madeline up sometimes, but she's very forgiving.
He has tufts on his ears, tiger stripes on his legs, an M on his forehead, and lovely white eyeliner. He's also huge.
I'm thankful for Jasper every day. For those of you who don't like cats, allow me to explain.
He does not whine. He does not throw temper tantrums. Unlike my toddler, he ALWAYS uses his toilet (okay, litter box) - always. I do not have to cook for him, and he's not a picky eater. He does not talk about sports, or church, or veggie tales. He does not ask questions. He does not leave his clothing/shoes/toys/mail/keys all over the house. He's tidy and quiet and he never, ever hurts my feelings. He follows me around from room to room, like a puppy, only he doesn't smell bad. He keeps himself impeccably clean, and he's the softest cat I've ever owned.
He just lays around looking cute and snuggly all the time. And when everything in my world is crazy, I sneak into my bedroom, and bury my face in his downy white belly. He just looks at me, and he lets me pet him, and he lowers my blood pressure.
And that is why I like my cat. He's soft, and cute, and neat, and quiet, and he lowers my blood pressure.
Happy birthday, Jasper. Thanks for keeping me sane.