shopping for two
Back in Portland! Cammie was a trooper through the ten-hour car ride and seems to be settling in well. The windowsills are wide enough for her sit and mew at the birds.
The scoop, briefly, on Cambridge Yoda Kerschen: she is small and gray and joined our family unit in 1992. For the next four years we lived together in domestic tranquility; when I was fifteen and having my "issues" and/or "phases" she was about the only thing on the planet that I loved and trusted unconditionally. Then I went off to college and she went to live with the folks in Reno, and became cranky and sullen for want of proper affection. She and my mother have always coexisted by an uneasy truce, and while my stepfather is a fine man in many ways, his idea of petting a cat is to administer a sort of backbreaking Shiatsu massage. At any rate, Cammie needed to be rescued. At age eleven, she has finally come to Portland to live out her golden years in—one hopes—a more congenial environment. I'm certainly happy to have her. Waking up alone is the shits.
