One fine day, about twelve years ago, my husband was travelling the Virginia by-ways on business. He stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere (actually, everywhere around here is the middle of nowhere; but you know, the middle of nowhere kind of grows on you). He got a beverage and a snack and was sitting outside at a picnic table when an extremely tiny kitten gamboled out of the woods and came over to him. He asked in the store if anyone knew who the kitten belonged to. The proprietress of the establishment told him that the kitten had just shown up that morning by herself and was hanging out near the table. He considered taking her home; but as we already had three other cats at that point, he figured someone else would take her. He got in his car and started off, but then, who was he kidding, he turned around and got her. She was then presented to me as a gift. Oh, if I knew then, what I know now...
She was so small she didn't know how to eat solid food, so we had to feed her out of an eyedropper. Then she graduated to cat gravy. A little brown spot started developing on her nose. For the longest time I thought it was gravy. I mean, I used to try and wipe it off until a month in, when I realized it was permanent. Duh. One of her nick-names is "Gravy-face." She has a lot of nick-names. Larie. Lara-Lou-Lou. Fat Lara. Fat Wawa. Little Fat Head. Not to fat shame; but she's fat. Or least she was fat. No, she still is kinda fat. However, she used to be obese. The problem is, is that she's obsessed with food.
When she first came to live with us, we already had two adult cats. Siblings. A brother and sister. Frances was the female and Paco was the male. They became her "aunt" and "uncle." Paco wanted little to do with her; but Frances was tolerant. That she came in as a kitten was crucial, because I think they both would've rejected her if she was full grown. Here's her Uncle Paco:
I will be writing more about Lara and friends in upcoming blogs.