Mama's Boy

Millie got her own post last week; now it's Harley's turn.

Harley Dude was born sometime in late August of 2008 to an unknown mama cat. He was left in an old boat on someone's property. When that someone found him, alone and teeny-tiny, he took the little mite to his neighbor, who just happens to foster cats for AFC.

It was Harley's lucky day.

The little orange boy was christened Khan and promptly put in the pocket of his new foster mom's hoodie. Whenever she checked on him, he would hiss at her. Shocking, yes, considering how friendly he is now, but those first days in human hands were scary for an abandoned little guy.

In time he was properly socialized. Like any other bottle baby, I'm sure his health was touch-and-go at first, but he pulled through and became a very healthy boy.

Fate intervened on December 6, 2008. Khan was brought to PetCo, and I paid a visit after seeing "Twilight" at the downtown theater that morning. I had expressed interest in an older girl cat named Munique, but I went home that day with a baby boy named Khan.

He wouldn't be Khan for long. I asked if I could hold him, and the ladies let me. I scooped him up out of his cage. His motorboat purr rumbled in my ears, making me laugh. "You sound just like a Harley Davidson!"

"That would be a good name..." one of the volunteers coyly replied.

Then he licked my nose.

Done.

Finished.

Caught, hook, line and sinker.

That was all I needed. To be sure, I took a stroll around the store and called my parents. But I knew, in my heart, that this little orange flirt with the louder-than-loud purr was coming home with me.

That night he was delivered by Marian, the head of the PetCo adoptions, to my apartment. I knew then, and know now, that it was a chance for her to see who she was turning this kitten over to. I didn't have to do a lot to prepare for a second cat, aside from setting up a kitten space in the bathroom where he could stay while I was at work and sleeping those first couple of weeks. It's always best to isolate a new cat from an established cat for a while, until everyone is used to the new smells and personalities. I was able to say, with total confidence, that AFC had nothing to worry about giving Khan to me.

That first night, I cuddled him to sleep on my chest before locking him in the bathroom for the night. The second night, he was on to me. He refused to cuddle to sleep, knowing full well that it would mean being locked away by himself all night. Cats are not dumb, people.

So here we are, about a year-and-a-half later. Khan was renamed Harley Dude. He still rumbles at the very sight of his mom, and he's still all boy and all baby. I adore him, and I suspect that Millie even likes him, most of the time. She'll never admit it, though.

I still call him Harley, but he also has a host of nicknames. He's also Little Dude, Doodlebug, Harley-Doodle, or Mama's Baby Boy.

He seems particularly fascinated by the things I do in the bathroom--from watching me shower (behind the clear inner shower curtain), cuddling on my lap whenever I sit down to, ahem, take care of business, and pacing the counter as I brush my teeth. He meows like a girl, weighs 13 pounds, and thinks his tummy markings are "six-pack abs." More like a 24-pack...but I don't tell him that, it would just hurt his feelings.

He's been a wonderful addition to my home, and to my family's little mini-pride of cats. I think I'll keep him.

"Yeah yeah yeah! Look at these abs!"

"Mmmmm...feet!"

"Heeeyyyy, where ya going? I'm not done yet!"

"Whatcha doin', Mommy? Can I help? Can I have some? Huh? Huh?"

"I'm brushing my teeth, Harley. I'll cuddle you later."

Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth...