So I finally cracked and got a cat.
Someone at work sent at out an email on friday saying that there was a cat looking for a home, and attached a picture of this little guy, whose name is Charlie Chaplin.
So after a few days of calling landlords and filling out cat adoption papers, I have myself a cat.
I picked him up tonight from the woman who had been fostering him (and a large number of other cats) and drove him home, listening to the Red Sox win the World Series.
He’s awesome. He’s somewhere between 2 and 3, and is a bit talkative but ridiculously sweet.
Most cats, when you move them, go hide under the bed for about a week. He was running around my apartment like a mountain climber on speed tonight.
Oddly, his favorite part of my apartment thus far is the ledge right next to the microwave and above the dishwasher:
He’s an awesome cat thus far. I’ve never had a cat that’s this immediately friendly. I think this is gonna be very fun.