Mosey's New Home
We need another miracle. Soon.
The tiny kitten appeared out of nowhere. She climbed our steps at the old home place on Goose Creek just before dark in August, 2019, and announced that she had arrived.
She came inside, checked us out, and decided the accommodations and pair of included humans would be adequate to her needs. And she never left.
In less than three months, we will be living in a small second floor apartment far away.
So now, Mosey needs a new home.
And that will be the hardest letting go, besides leaving all our human friends of the past two decades, of course. She has been one of us, in the aloof way that cats "belong" to and with their humans.
MOSEY'S RESUME
She has not seen or needed to see a vet since she was spayed at six months.
She has not been in a carrier since we moved her across Floyd County in June 2020.
She has not been outdoors since her last brief escape out an open door, when she quickly came back inside where her food bowl lives.
She sometimes disappears to one of her known hiding places, but most of the time, she is where we are and obviously need her help with whatever we are doing.
She inspects the interior of every empty box before we pack it for give-away, throw-away or take away. It has become a full time job.
She loves to help me type. I thank her profusely.
OPERATING INSTRUCTIONS
Mosey has two basic needs. Ann and I have divided the responsibilities.
(1) Ann over-feeds her.
(2) And I brush her and provide abundant and frequent adoration and praise. Cats need a lot of praise to bolster their understanding that they are alpha, are royalty, are entitled. I do what I can.
Mosey is a Covid Cat, though we didn't have that word when she was born. By the time she was spayed, N95 and social distancing were part of our language. She did not see many strangers in the house for two years.
And so she tends to disappear when a car pulls in the drive--our stranger-alert watch-cat.
MOSEY TURNS FIVE
Mosey was 10 weeks old when we first met her, which means she was born somewhere near Goose Creek, around the middle of June.
We have put the soft carrier out in the front room for her to get used to and feel comfortable around. It will carry her to her new digs soon.
In the next month—maybe by her birthday—she will find someone among our family, neighbors and friends who will bring her into their home and care for her and come to know her and be honored by her presence.
And in a short while, she will take her food and praise from other admirers and we will be thankful to have had her in our lives, to live on in our memories.
After a half dozen dogs and just one other indoor cat, she will be the last non-human friend in our lives. Somehow, we will manage, but it makes us sad to see her go. You know how it is. Tough love.
If you can help us find a new home—the right home—for Mosey, that would be such a load off our list of difficult tasks to complete as we approach the move date at the end of August. Get in touch. And thanks, in advance, for one more miracle from our Floyd Community of good souls.
What an unusual name. I'd like to hear more about how she got it :)
Mosey will fare better than my Dad's cat Rocky. At 86, he lived in a trailer in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains of SC with Rocky being his only companion. Being forgetful, he dropped a cigarette into the bag of cat treats and managed to put out the fire after charring the treats, which he continued to feed Rocky. Rocky, like so many pets in those parts, spent most of his day outdoors. A few weeks later, my Dad said that Rocky had gotten unusually fat and was behaving in a strange manner. On investigation, we discovered that Rocky must have lost his bout to the now reigning domestic resident--a raccoon. Or maybe, he just found a new home with better food than burnt cat treats.