Wednesday, November 11, 2009


It was suggested to me by someone that I should talk about my pets on my blog. I am not certain that it is a subject that will interest everyone but since they are are large part of who I am I suppose I  will.

We will begin with the definition of a sketchball, since a number of the cats in my possession are sketchballs. This term was coined by my son, and it is used for scaredy cats. You know, the kind that hide when company comes. They dart at sudden unexpected noises, sometimes run from you when you reach to pat them, and allow you to make contact only in certain 'safe' situations. Often these cats begin life feral but even my Sylvia and Una Mae, neither of whom were feral, are both sketchballs.

But we will not be talking about Sylvia or Una Mae today. Instead, we will speak of Baby Boy (pictured), sketchabll extraordinaire.

He was captured with another young cat in a have-a-heart trap. He was approx. 12-16 weeks old and feral. He was never entirely tame. But he was loved and although he never did get a proper name - I mean, what self-respecting cat owner gives her cat the name of 'Baby Boy?' - he did finally learn to play. I do miss him.

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