© David
Casey
A month after losing my dear Maine Coon, Abby, to cancer, a friend asked me to go with her to the SPCA to help her look for a dog. She didn't leave with a dog, but I saw Casey, and after coming back to him repeatedly, they brought him to the "get to know you" room, and the chemistry was instant. He is my little boy, now 9 years old, and still as mischeivous and into everything as ever. He absolutely loves catnip, and every time I open the pantry door, he's in there sitting on top of the trash can pulling out the zip top bag of catnip. He sleeps with us, plastered against one or the other of us all night, but only after he gets his evening "sink" time. I go into the bathroom to get ready for bed, and turn around to find him lying in my sink. Once he gets up, he then sits on the edge of the sink and drinks the water as it runs. He detests having the blinds closed at night, and has some deep seated need to destroy every lampshade he can get his paws on. He is a snuggler and a big time kneader. He gets the most hilarious little glazed "smile" on his face when he is kneading my partner's stomach. As the photos show, he knows how to turn on the charm. A friend who cat-sat him once put it better than anyone else ever has: "He is just so busy!"