Foster: An Introduction

This has nothing to do with towns or trails or the Adirondacks. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise if you’re at all familiar with this little corner of Towns and Trails. After all, there’s an unspoken agreement around here that Dave is responsible for posting anything that’s actually useful to our readers. Turns out useful isn’t really my thing. And it’s Friday.

So today, in a noble effort to honor our unspoken agreement, I’m going to tell you about our cat.

His name is Foster and he’s the best cat in the world. The end.

Ok, ok. I’ll tell you more if you promise not to laugh at him. He’s sensitive about certain things.

First, the obvious stuff. He’s fluffy and soft and has clear blue eyes. He likes typical cat things like lying in the sun, chattering at birds and squirrels, and sharpening his claws in inappropriate places.

This is actually a really old photo of him, but he looks the same today. He’s aging quite gracefully.

And now for the stuff that makes him the undisputed best cat in the world.

1) He likes to talk. Nonstop. He talks morning, noon, and night. From sun up to sundown. From dusk ’til dawn. Around the clock. 24/7. For richer or poorer. ‘Til death do us part. You get the idea.

Here’s a typical exchange:

Meow!
Hey, buddy, what’s up?
Meeeee-ee-ee-owwww.
Are you hungry? Want some food?
Owwwwww.
Are you ok? Are you hurt???
Maow!
Oh, you just want Daddy to come give Mommy a back rub?
Mew!

2) He can’t deal with Dave and I being in separate rooms. If one of us is upstairs and the other downstairs, he sits at the foot of the stairs and plaintively meows until we’re reunited again as one happy, co-dependent family. If Dave is in his office and I’m in the living room, he plants himself right in the middle, pleading for us to make the situation right again. It’s both endearing and annoying, and I have no idea how to make it stop.

3) He plays fetch, minus the actual fetching part. But, hey, it’s more than most cats do. Here is semi-proof of his fetching abilities:

4) He’s fashionable and changes his look with the seasons. Once or twice a year he gets a haircut. Actually, we shave him to the bone. Here’s a pretty awful video clip, but it shows you what he looks like fresh from the salon. And you get to hear his lovely voice. Remember, no laughing!

Did you catch a glimpse of the low-hanging flap of flub on his belly? We call it the belly-boob. You can’t touch the belly-boob. It sends him into a tailspin. Of course, we try anyway. And we have the scars to prove it.

And this. THIS is what he looks like in his full-blown natural state. Such a pretty kitty.

5) He loves to go outside (obviously, from the last photo). Supervised only, of course. And again, not all that weird for a cat. But he has a special way of letting us know when he’s ready for some outside time. He sits down in front of the door, meows loudly to get our attention (duh), and then Dave or I will say, “We’ll let you outside if you ask nicely.” And he’ll stand on his hind legs, reach up with one paw, and smack the doorknob two or three times. Occasionally he glances over his shoulder while performing this trick and gives us a look that can only mean, “Give me a break, guys. I’m a cat, not a monkey.” But we make him do it anyway. I don’t have photographic evidence of this, so you’ll have to take my word for it.

And there you have it. That’s a thumbnail sketch of our boy. On any given day, he makes us laugh, cry (from laughter), scream (from laughter), and wear ear plugs.

Thanks for humoring me. I promise to post something you might actually care about next week.

Wait, one more thing. Here’s a photo I just took of him in one of his favorite spots in front of the fish tank.

Ok, now you may leave.