Hamilton is MAADD!!!!!!!

We are a two-cat house. But it didn't start out that way.

I married into a one-cat family. Warren and I met in Minneapolis in 1974. He had an orange cat named Buffy. But Buffy died--more on that another time--and we became a two-cat house shortly after that.

We've been a two-cat house ever since.

Today, Hamilton and Miss Ellie live in our house in Missouri. Or maybe we live in their house. It's a toss-up some days.

Hamilton joined our house a few days after Eclipse, our son Ben's cat, died. Ben had grown up and moved to New York City. Eclipse died while Ben was away. Warren dragged me over to the city animal shelter a few days later to introduce me to Hamilton. It was love at first site.

More about Hamilton's early years another day. I have more important things to talk about right now.

Hamilton is MAD because he's injured. He doesn't like to hurt. He's hurting, and of course, I'm hurting, too. I'm hurting because I let him go out at night and he got hurt on one of his midnight adventures. I want Hamilton to be himself, who came to me with a past--more on that later-- but I don't want to lose him, either.

I love this cat. He is the first and only cat who has claimed me as his person.

And tonight he is hurting because he got into it with some critter outside a few days ago and hurt his back right paw.

He's MAD because we forced him to visit his enemy, the Vet, who is actually a good guy who understands Hamilton, but he gave Hamilton a shot in the BUTT, for heaven's sake. And tonight I gave Hamilton an eyedropper full of an antibiotic. Good grief, folks, leave me alone!

So Hammy's quite put-out by the PAIN, which is mild, according to the Vet, and the INDIGNITY of the forced feeding of yucky stuff.

He won't be happy with me when he figures out I won't let him go out tonight. But he loves me, so I know he will forgive me, when he gets done letting me know how MAD he is.