Spitty, of Spitty Speaks fame.

First, let me say that I don’t think this kitty has a white streak across his brow (or whatever you call that area on a cat). I think it must be a sunbeam.

I don’t normally blog about cats but there’s always the exception to the rule, and Spitty is certainly an exception to many rules.

He is the first cat to link his cat blog (Spitty Speaks) to mine, and for that I am so so grateful. Spitty is also the pet of my cousin, Mary Cerutti, who I suspect has some say in his blog posts, though one can never be too sure about such things.

Spitty started his life as a feral park cat up in San Francisco – from the freezing cold wilds of Golden Gate Park to the warmth, peace and quiet of an apartment nearby: one lucky feline indeed.

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Not to let that sweet exterior fool you, however. Spitty retains much of his wild heritage – untrustful, cautious, suspicious and lurking all describe this pet at various times I’ve observed him.

Of course, he’s not overly fond of me. I’ve stayed with my cousin numerous times on visits to San Francisco and it’s only been the last year or so where he’s made an appearance at all. So, of course I was shocked when I learned he had blogged about me and referred to me as “The Introodur.” Ha!

I also have been led to understand that he patiently sits there and watches me in the dark while I sleep on the airbed. Just waiting . . . but waiting for what? I’m not an infant, so I’m not sure he wants to suck the life breath right out of me, but I don’t entirely trust Spitty, I have to say.

Maybe writing about the cat will help our fractured relationship. Then again, maybe it’s just one more quiver in Spitty’s arsenal, about to be shot back at me when I least suspect it. For now, shall we have an understanding?

Please see the link to Spitty Speaks in the roll to the right of this post.