Gossy at One Year

Back when his name was Soloman - our first day at home!

After deciding to stay offline for a while yesterday, Gossamer brings me back to at least my own blog.  Today is the one-year anniversary of my adopting him, and I apparently have a thing about observing anniversaries and birthdays.

Glow-eyes today
The coloring got a little more vivid, eh?

I adopted my boy in a state of such acute upset and confusion (not from the loss of Siddy, but from events of that Thursday.  Never did get the hang of Thursdays ...), and in fact I adopted two cats in a fit of impulse.  They were running a two for one special and I adopted these grey little sweeties named Soloman (my Gossy) and Elijah.

I should have known from the name:  solo man.  But I understand Elijah got snapped up in a hurry once I returned him, and Goss and Pen are my wonderful little pack.

Gossamer blessed me the second he grabbed my finger with his little baby paw.  I remember our first afternoon; we came home and all of us napped; he came close up on my neck and slept with his head in the curve between my chin and my lip.

He's still the littlest cat I've ever had, but then, that day, he was so immensely small, he was the tiniest thing I had touched in twenty years.  His neck a mere fiber, his paws loose little rubbery latex jelly-bean paws.  His fur all poofy, and his warm, soft belly all chubby and full.  I recall the sensation of his growing, every day a little different, every day able to do a little more.  He has the best jump I have ever seen; nimble and yet soft-footed like nothing I have ever seen in the world.

Chill
... he seems okay with his lot ...

Happy adoption day, my pearly grey, Gossamer love.  A new plant sprouted to celebrate.
*Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*