Charlie is my darling

I think I've mentioned that my sister is an adoption counselor at the Arizona Humane Society.  In the Cat Room.  That means that she's an aggressive cat pusher.  She thinks everyone should have cats.  Plural.  She has two cats herself and is seriously considering a third. So poor Rusty had barely been gathered to her forecats when Sue started asking me what kind of replacement cat I would be looking for.  I finally told her that I would like a male cat between 9 months and two years of age, preferably affectionate and either yellow tabby or some other lightish color that would not stand out too distinctly on my carpet and upholstery.  Sue told her fellow counselors (also women) that I was looking for a cuddly young blond, and one of them said, "Aren't we all?"

Anyway, a few weeks ago I got The Call on a Sunday: "Would you consider a lynx-point Siamese/snowshoe mix?"  (Translation: looks a lot like a Siamese but with brown-striped face, tail, and legs and white toes.  Big Blue Eyes.)  I went to see him and fell in love the minute he turned into a purring ball of love in my lap.

Charlie is about a year old and was surrendered by his previous owners when they moved.  I don't know what they were thinking of when they named him Charlie - Charlie Chan? Charlie Chaplin? Charlie Brown?? - but he actually answers to the name so I guess we'll have to keep it.

Poor Charlie had a cold when I got him and spent most of the first week under the bed recovering, but he's spending every evening now doing his Lap Cat thing while we watch TV together.  On Saturdays he takes a nap on my desk or the top level of his cat condo (next to the desk) while I grade papers.  He's even started to meet me at the door when I come home from work, although that's probably what the English call "cupboard love" (he knows dinner is imminent).

At any rate, he's a cutie and very well behaved.  What's not to love?

"Charlie is my darling, 
My darling, my darling,
Charlie is my darling,
The young Chevalier."

~ Robert Burns