Harley

Last week we adopted Harley the kitten. He is 9 months old, smoky gray and hails from Citizens for Animal Protection via our local PetsMart. He is exactly the type of kitten we prayed for to continue the legacy of great Simmons cats, beginning with Buddy. Johnny even dreamed of a smoky gray kitten. Harley's adoption card said his previous owners gave him up because he purred too loud and was too active. Upon reading this Johnny and I looked at each other and said, "What the?" Some people are just not cat people. Lo and behold, Harley indeed purrs loud, especially at night as he sleeps between mine and Johnny's heads. He purrs loud as a Harley Davidson, perhaps why he was named Harley.

Harley is sick, poor Gato El Gray. He has a nasty upper respiratory infection which is common to kittens from animal shelters. He is congested and lethargic and it is killing me. (I can only imagine what it must feel like to care for sick babies and feel equally as helpless.) We are now giving him antibiotics and the vet said Harley will be A-OK, thank God. Harley is curled up on my lap right now sleeping and trying to breathe. A few mintues ago I had to shift sitting postions because my leg was falling asleep. I picked him up, held him against my chest like a baby, and leaned back in my chair. Typing was out of the question so I watched a Damien Rice live performance I saved on my desktop. As the video opened and the audience cheered and clapped, Harley lifted his head and watched the whole performance with me, his big ears twitching as he heard the cello stroked, the lead vocals crescendoed, and the guitar strummed. As soon as the song was over Harley laid his head on my shoulder and fell back asleep. A kitten who enjoys Damien Rice, Hallelujah.