Crinkle is fat. Not morbidly obese, but certainly chubby. After he started eating well, he didn’t stop for a breather for four months. At that time, he finally tapered off. He still likes to eat, but I don’t have to change his name to Hungry.

Since I had originally saved him with the intention of a new barn cat, I considered letting him out of the house one day to see if he wanted to go hunt the vermin; his response was a resounding “no, thanks.” He spends his days washing, nibbling, and napping on favorite spots (one of which is on me). He does play. He likes a game of “Da bird,” but does not seem interested in the small cat nip toys that lay around. I think I can safely say, Crinkle is one happy cat.

His favorite spot to be scratched is his chin. He likes a good belly rub and generally any gentle rub. He follows me just about everywhere. He exudes contentment. I look at him with his deformed ear and the scar on his tail from his maggot infested wound and wonder what his story is. I think his past bothers me more than it bothers him. That’s a wonderful thing about animals. They live in the present. While the past certainly affects them, most are able to get over it and enjoy life now. I look back and remember holding what appeared to be a dying Crinkle in my arms and telling him I loved him. Maybe that made a difference in his recovery, maybe it didn’t. But, I am sure glad he is in my life now.