This is Hoban Washburne, Wash for short.
He is the most wonderful cat ever to grace the earth with his presence. I mean it. He’s quiet (except when he wants that turkey sandwich you’re eating), he’s cuddly and he sleeps as much as I wish I could. He knows his name and will come running if you offer him a lap upon which to lounge.
And he loves his Mama. I don’t know what Jason did - maybe it was his big hiking boots tromping around, maybe it was his smell after having cleaned out the garage, or maybe it was just that his heart was two sizes too small - but last week Wash developed an aversion to him. Wash could be sound asleep in my lap and Jason would walk into the room and it was like a gunshot went off - he’s up and under our bed faster than a 20 lb cat should be able to move.
I'm pretty sure it has something to do with all the company we had for the last 3 WEEKS IN A ROW. Poor cat didn’t have a chance what with the constant stream of people roaming about the house; enough people to start a baseball team with. I think it was too much for his delicate sensibilities to handle. So for now he only likes me. Which is completely fine by me. I would hide that cat in my pocket and take him with me everywhere if he didn’t weigh so much.
Is that a 20 lb cat in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
He really has been a personal mini-lifesaver over the past month. With my struggling through the depression and anxiety, the knowledge that when I get home there will be a husband, a bunny and an amorous cat waiting for me has made a world of difference. And at night, he lies between Jason and I and runs his little motor. I rest my hand on his side and drift off to sleep. Who needs Valium when you have a cat that sounds like a classic ‘67 Camaro?
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