Everyone else is doing a New Year’s post, so I’ll do something different.
Thursday night, Daughter Dearest and I were coming home from running errands. I turned into the driveway, and…
“Looks like one of our cats got out!” I said, hitting the brakes. “How did that happen?”
Suddenly… Mrs. Fetched wrinkled her nose. “He sprayed something!” We put the visitor in the garage and started hunting. We only smelled it in the living room; Daughter Dearest was the one to hit on the idea of bringing Pip in from the porch to see if he could find it. He was soon sniffing the tree apron and (after confirming) we chucked the apron in the washer. The smell went away soon after.
Despite his banishment, he seems to have adopted us. Mrs. Fetched thinks he was someone’s pampered kitten who was disenfranchised after he started spraying his original home, and those “lost cat” signs may never materialize. So I named him Stinkbomb, and Daughter Dearest named him Prince because he’s so spoiled. So we put our heads together, and came up with his full name: His Royal Highness, Prince Stinky McSpraygun.
Anyway. If you live on Planet Georgia, and have lost a cat who looks like this one, let me know.