Saturday, July 3, 2010

Nathan Alan Willoughby - The Westwood Rescue for Good Cats

Once Nathan and Alan had left the large black and white cat at the rescue, he got comfortable. The people who volunteered at the old Victorian home-turned cat rescue were friendly and patted the cat soothingly.

"Let's take him to the Red Room," said Cornelius, the rescue coordinator. "He's a regal looking fellow, don't you think? With a name like his, he deserves royal treatment."

The Red Room, though Nathan Alan Willoughby could not tell colors, was an upstairs bedroom that housed five other cats. There was a queen sized bed with a red chenille coverlet. Two cats slept on it. Another cat looked out the window from the back of a plush chair. One cat stopped batting a catnip mouse about when the door opened. The fifth cat....well, he was using the litterbox, much to his embarrassment.

"Here you go, kits, another friend for you," Cornelius put Nathan Alan Willoughby in a small wire cage, then he left. Each cat came up and spent a little time sniffing at him, then hissing. Nathan Alan Willoughby decided he too would sniff, then hiss. It didn't seem like a friendly way of making new friends, but what did he know of it? He'd never met any cats that hadn't immediately run from him. At least these cats looked at him.

By the end of the day, Nathan Alan Willoughby was released into the rest of the room. A few of the other cats growled and hissed, but mostly they just continued what they were doing, which was mostly sleeping or looking out the window. Nathan Alan Willoughby walked about the room, sniffing at the different toys on the floor, and most of the furniture, which he suspected was also in the theme of red for the Red Room.

Next to the bed, there was a nightstand with a clock, book, and lamp. This seemed peculiar, since cats aren't big readers, can see quite well in the dark, and really have no use for time, unless it is time to eat. However, the homey look made the cats look like they'd fit in to the homes of the potential adopters. To the cats it didn't matter - a soft bed is a soft bed.

Nathan Alan Willoughby surveyed the room carefully. This was a far cry from the dumpster. There was food in a bowl, with water next to it. He wouldn't have to look for it in the smelly trash or fight off rats for a morsel of pizza dough. Here he could have what he needed.

He curled into a ball on the bed and looked at the two other cats sleeping nearby. They seemed content enough. He glanced out the window and could see rain hitting it, beginning to freeze as it drizzled down. The room was warm. As Nathan Alan Willoughby drifted off to a deep, relaxing sleep, he couldn't help but think he'd been rescued just in time.

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