His name was Johnny and he was fourteen years old when he was left at the Animal Shelter because his owner "didn't have time for him." That could have been his death sentence. But he was such a nice cat I brought him home to live out his remaining years with us. Because we already had a Johnny, and because we have a tradition of gray-and-white cats named Toby, he became "Toby John."

We found out shortly afterwards that he was diabetic. He gets twice-daily insulin injections and seems to be thriving under that care. He is an out-going, sociable cat who fits snugly into the community in the shop.