Happy Tails To YOU -- Yes, You!

Or, more appropriately, "You (go) to Happy Tails!"

I updated the post from yesterday to plug them, but seriously -- if you live in the Nashville area, and have room in your life for a pet (and a very few bucks), please go visit them. Their website is here, and they never have a shortage of dogs and cats who need good, responsible and loving homes.

I've been through a lot of crap the last 3+ years, and I really don't know what would have kept me as (relatively) sane as I am, had it not been for Curly -- my too-cool-for-school off-the-rack brown tabby (whose photos are plastered all over this blog), who was rescued by Happy Tails back in late 2002.

For those who haven't heard the story, it goes like this: My wingnut friend, J.J., and his awesome wife Erica (pictured at right, with former Tennessee Titans WR Derrick Mason), convinced me -- after seeing how well their cat and I got along (and both of them knowing that I'd recently had to euthanize another cat who was briefly in my care, B.B. -- another story) -- that I should consider getting another cat. Since they'd adopted their kitty from Happy Tails, they talked me into driving down with them to Franklin one day to check into it all. Erica really just wanted an excuse to go back to see and interact with all the kitties, I am sure. :)

Anyway, we arrive, and it's an unseasonably cool, rainy early June day. We go directly into the cat room, which has about 40 cats in it... about a dozen are wandering about the room, or lounging on the many elaborate cat perches therein. The rest are in cages (or "condos," as the Happy Tails folx are wont to call them), along the walls. I start in one corner, visiting each caged kitty. About a third of the way through the room, I happen upon Curly's cage. He's crying pitiably, and when I put my hand up to the cage to pet him through the wire, he starts immediately licking my fingers. That was just too unusual. So, we ask if he can be let out into the room, and, after a quick "compatibility check" of the room, the staff lets him out. I get a good look at him, and pet him some more, and then, I continue visiting with the rest of the kitties.

I was in the room for at least another 20-30 minutes, visiting with all the cats. During the entire time, Curly literally never strayed more than a few feet from me. I couldn't help but notice that he was following me around the room, and I finally had to admit that he had chosen me. I couldn't ignore that, so I filled out the paperwork, wrote a check, and he went home with me in a cardboard cat carrier that day.

Just a few weeks later, I'd be resigning the best job of my life, due to ethical incompatibility... and a year or so later, losing my home. Curly was with me through all that, and beyond. On my worst day, he never fails to make me smile -- or, more often, laugh out loud, due to his antics, which only other cats can fully understand.

Honestly -- don't you need a Curly in your life?
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