Folks, I’m sure you know the song, “Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man,
Tryin to make a livin’ and doin the best I can....” I won’t say whether or not “I was born in the back seat of a greyhound bus, Rollin down’ highway 41.” But I may well have been. I had some people with me, though, back then because I remember being warm and treated well and singin’. I guess I went rambling – or, maybe, I was sent rambling – don’t rightly remember.

With my sincere apologies to the Allman Brothers who chronicled my anthem, I think it’s time to stop the rambling’ and find me a home. A lot of songs out there about guys like me – I did some hobo-hopping with an old preacher for a while. We’d sit around a pot of whatever stew and sing, “I am a poor wayfarin’ stranger, travelin’ through this world of woe....” I know, it sounds romantic – but, believe me, after a while, it’s just not romantic at all. My ears are bent from battlin’ to survive, and I picked up somewhere the FIV, which means my immune system isn’t great, although I should still live all nine of my lives. Don’t think I’ve used up more than one, thus far! But I need to stay indoors from now on. Retire from the road, put my feet up, and settle down.

And I am so ready to do just that. Settle down with the right people, my forever people, and do a little cuddling – in a real home, not the back of a bus somewhere. I’m a wise tabby guy – plenty of street smarts that I really would like to stop using. I’ve got good house smarts, too – smell food very well – curl up at feet with ease. I’d like to use those talents from now on. So, please, this cat’s in jail! Please go my bail – only $100 – let’s sing together. I know all the words – really I do.

PS: I currently reside at THE SHELTER (not in foster care). If you can't stop in but would like to know more about me, please call 651-642-5900, ext.3. Thanks!