I attended a dear friend from college's wedding over the New Year and some of the other guests who also knew me in college seemed more excited to tell me how much they love my #kudzuthecat posts than to catch up with me personally. In fact come to think of it, that was the extent of most of my conversations with acquaintances I haven't seen since college, "I just love your cat!" So I decided to write about our precious boober-kitty.
We think Kudzu will be 8 sometime in August this year, and as Markus puts it, that makes her older than we are (assuming the rule about 1 human year = 7 dog years applies to cats, too?).
When we first moved up here the vet warned me about letting the cat outside, even though we live in the "city" of Northampton, just off of a busy street. Both the assistant and vet convinced me that Kudzu would die young if we let her venture outside the apartment, probably within minutes of opening the door, actually.
"I'm not sure what kind of wildlife you have in Mississippi..." Link to Google search results
So, for the first several months we hoped our basement would be enough adventure for our sweet little fuzzy-pants. And it was. She would hang out downstairs for hours and return covered in cobwebs.
But after a while, even our not-so-new-anymore apartment and basement weren't enough space for two humans AND our sugar-britches. If you haven't caught on yet, we don't live above a bar anymore. More on that good news later...
Once we settled into the new place we started letting Kudzu venture outside, and I'm pleased to share that:
- She's still alive
- We even survived 6 months of winter i.e. it was too cold to be outside and even she knew it