I'm looking over at "Smokey" on the couch.  Smokey's been an inside
boy for over two years now.  He's lying on his back with all his legs
in the air and his eye rolling around to check me out upside-down,
since the back of his head is on the pillow and his mouth is in the
air.

Smokey was once a feral at CFB Trenton air force base, living in the
forest, eating baby bunnies and seagulls supplemented with garbage and
leftover food he could scam.  He got adopted by my unit and tamed.
Then the accommodations manager called animal control to "dispose" of
him.  The security chief heard about this and got together with me to
find Smokey an immediate home.  The chief had been the one who first
bought Smokey cat food and started feeding him outside the ops centre,
but he had dogs at home that were vicious to cats.  So I smuggled
Smokey off base one night and took him to my home and gave him to my
fiance and very unimpressed black queen cat.

We swear Smokey was once someone's pet.  He NEVER sprayed, was
automatically litter trained, NEVER scratched the furniture, used his
post to scratch, is a clean boy, etc, etc.  He's also a desperate suck
for attention and crawls on EVERYONE'S lap, including complete
strangers and known cat haters--I can barely sit down without a lapful
of pokey Smokey.

We got him fixed and tested from FIV and Feline Leukemia and given his
shots and a license.  He was really, really agitated the first few
times he had his claws clipped; being denuded of his primary weapons
was very upsetting until he realized he didn't need them razor-sharp
to catch meals or defend himself.  He had troubel figuring out that
windows couldn't be jumped through, and he's still neurotic about
food--when the food bowl is empty he SHRIEKS and caterwauls until it
is full.  HE doesn't necessarily eat, just has to know it's there if
he WANTS to eat it.

We also worried how Smokey would adapt from a whole forest to run in,
to a high rise apartment.  Turns out the one time we tried to take him
out to the park on leash, he threw himself on his back and SCREAMED
until we took him in.  Even being on the balcony makes him
scream--even seeing the OPEN BALCONY DOOR makes him scream.
Apparently nature sucks and Smokey never wants to be in the horrible
outside again--that nasty place with no couch and no food.

Smokey is a happy boy.  I feel sick that they were thinking of
poisoning him for being a "wild animal."  Watching him grow from a
scrawny, undernourished, gritty-furred refugee to a sleek, healthy,
handsome couch-fungus has been a delight.

--Enfilade