On Sunday, Dallas was adopted by a 10 week old street kitten, that he named Willie Nelson.
Willie Nelson is most definitely a little outlaw. He’s adorable, and he took one look at us as we walked past him sitting on the front porch of Dallas’ apartment building and decided that we would make good caretakes. He ran right up to us, mewing and purring, and threw himself in my lap.
“We can’t leave this cute kitten out in the heat,” I said to Dallas. He agreed, and we took little Willie Nelson, our red headed stranger inside for some water. A vet visit followed, where he got hit vaccinations, a pet carrier, cat food, scratching post, and several toys.
Like I said. He adopted us.
It was clear when we put down a bowl of wet food and a bowl of dry food that this concept of “serving” him was foreign, because he attempted to eat ALL of it in one sitting, which resulted in a case of kitten hiccups.
That night, I made for dinner steak with blue cheese butter; what was supposed to be horseradish mashed potatoes (but I forgot the horseradish, so it turned into blue cheese mashed potatos) and broccoli.
Willie Nelson, not sure of when his next meal would come, saw my plate of food, came bounding to the table, and buried his face in my mashed potatoes. Then, he took off with a piece of steak fat. We decided this would be a good time to feed him his wet food again.
He caught on pretty quickly that if he acted pitiful and mewed every time I came over, that I would feed him, so I’m pretty sure we’ll have a fat cat on our hands in no time.