CityView Magazine

10 Februar y 2021 BILL KIRBY JR. Hazel Green Eyes At The Front Door A ll of us have a love story to tell. My latest is a little different from our theme this month of Romance and Resilience, and one I wasn't anticipating, but the truth be told, she stole my heart. Say hello to Turdopholous. She loves me. Let there be no mistake. She absolutely loves me. "She's adopted you, Bill," my Virginia was telling me, when I was telling Virginia that the last thing I need in my life is a cat with pitiful hazel eyes staring up at me. "It's not a matter of whether or not you want her. She already has made the decision for you. She's adopted you." Has she ever. is little love affair began back in the fall, when my friend Becky Spell stopped by and felt sorry for the little gray cat with the white paws. "Oh, she's hungry," Becky Spell, a cat-lover, said. "You need to feed that sweet, little kitten." To that suggestion came a firm veto. "If I feed that cat, she'll come back for more," I said. "I think she is my neighbors' cat, and they can feed her. I don't want a cat. She's cute. But I don't want a cat hanging around my house." Becky Spell showed up the next day with a bag of Meow Mix, and I did throw out the food across the street for this innocent little cat, and I told Becky Spell of my gracious ways to appease Becky Spell, and the cat. "She needs a bowl," Becky Spell said, and Becky Spell brought a purple dish … and some more Meow Mix and put the dish on my front porch. Turdopholous showed up on my porch the next day. She just plopped down and gazed at me with those pitiful hazel eyes. en she pawed on the storm door, and her pitiful hazel eyes were calling on what was a cold aernoon with a colder night to come. "She's cold," Becky Spell dropped by to say. "You need to buy her a house." Becky Spell and her friend, Frances Whitaker, showed up the following day with a house for Turdopholous … and more Meow Mix. Turdopholous loves her house. And, of course, me. Now, she's at my front porch storm door every single day, and always pawing on the glass. She's there when I leave home. She's there when I come home. She's there when I take out my trash. She's there when I go to the mailbox. Turdopholous thinks she's clever. She likes to hide in the azaleas and peek out at me. "Hey, Turdopholous, do you think I don't see you?" I'll say. en she is under my feet … every step of the way to the door. She's probably just 9 months old, and playful. She likes to jump on her house and climb up my arm and purr. Turdopholous is a character. She was a bit perplexed the day she made it atop the roof and couldn't quite figure out how to come down, but she was quite excited when she finally slipped past me and got in the house, and Turdopholous was everywhere and finally got herself entangled in the banker's lamp before I finally set her free. It was quite the adventure, and the excitement wore on her later in the evening. She's full of energy, but there's something you learn about cats … they like to sleep, and Turdopholous is no exception. She likes to curl into a ball on the top of her house, and These days you'll find Turdopholous perched on the front porch in the afternoon like the "queen bee" and leisurely taking in life.

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