A week before school started in September, our family adopted a cat. The little furball, pictured above.
After a weekend with an upper respiratory infection and a $1,000 vet bill, Fizzy has settled right in to our home and our family.
He’s about six months old. He was found eating birdseed as a kitten and fostered by another family with pets. He’s got a ringed tail. And he’s a real trip.
He enjoys fetching a little soccer ball toy, sometimes bringing it back for another throw and other times batting it around on the floor and stairs on his own. Ultimately when he’s done that game, he pushes it under the couch and I have to lift the whole couch up to find it the next time.
He drags a baby blanket around with him at times and will occasionally knead it and nap on it.
He nips every so often (less frequently now) or licks my balding noggin when I least expect it (which cracks my kids up).
He’s not much of a snuggler on the couch like my daughter had hoped he would be, but I suspect he may do that as he gets older. For now, he’s too busy chasing toys, gazing out the window ready to pounce on a squirrel, or walking on my laptop while I’m in the middle of a Zoom work call.
After years of holding off on getting a pet, despite being antagonized by our kids to get something… any-thing (we were an inch away from getting a bearded dragon and glad we didn’t), my wife and I finally relented. He’s a Covid cat. He’s also a funny, furry, frenetic family member.
Fizzy certainly keeps us busy… and entertained during an otherwise dreary time.