Shark and Mr Fluffy Pants
Shark is sitting on my lap the second I hit the porch.
Shark is an outdoor cat, he fights me if it is cold.
Because I try to pick him up and take him inside.
You would think he is from the Arctic.
Maybe he is.
He was a stray.
His brother Mr. Fluffy Pants disappeared the first year.
We have no idea where he went.
This is Shark's eleventh year with us.
He was aptly named.
He has his own kill zone around the house.
Sometimes we find thirty carcasses there in the winter.
We find them after the leaves blow away.
Shark can leave for days at a time.
When I start to give up and become sad,
There he is, as if by magic.
He is mystical.
Can you tell my grandchildren named them?
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