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Red Fred is a cat of mystery. He is also one of the first cats that we didn't have to leave home to find. He showed up at our house in the winter of 1990-91. We fed him, of course, but he really seemed to be hungrier for affection than for food. I would track him after every fresh snowfall, trying to see if he had a home to go to, but he never went near any other houses in our neighborhood. Instead, he had a den under the roots of a sprawling alder in our back woods--hardly a comfortable set-up for him.
So we brought him inside and made him ours. When I took him to the vet the following spring to have his operation, we discovered that Fred had already been neutered. So he had once belonged to someone--but who? How did he come to be wandering our woods, looking for food and friendship? My best guess is that when a cabin in our neighborhood had burned down the previous fall, the occupants must have thought their cat had died in the fire. They had moved on, but Fred remained I've always said that if there is such a thing as an "alpha" cat, Fred is an "omega" cat. He was born with the feline equivalent of a "Kick Me" sign on his back, and every cat and kitten who comes along seems to know it. He accepts his lowly place in the pecking order with equinimity and learned long ago how to avoid confrontations. Back when Fred was allowed outside, he had his own tree out back. We could tell if there was a strange cat in the yard because Fred would be up his tree, waiting patiently for the intruder to leave or for us to rescue him. Fred is a quiet and unassuming cat, a good basic, no-nonsense cat. He loves to jump onto our shoulders and ride around when we work outside or in the shop. He is also noted for having The World's Saddest Meow, even though his mournful tone doesn't reflect his actual emotional outlook. In reality, Fred is a pretty up-beat kind of guy. |
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