Meet the Staff, Part II

This golden boy is Toby, who came to live with me in June 1992. Toby is 15-years old and one of my best buds. He visits me in the bathroom each morning, sitting on the counter to get pets while I comb my hair. He's next to me on the couch when I watch TV. He likes to sleep under my left arm.

Toby came from the Knox County Animal Shelter when he was around a year old. The staff were desperate to find a home for him because he was slated to be put down; they had already given him one "stay" of execution because they thought he was such a wonderful cat. I'm glad they did.

Although his name is Toby, he has a number of nicknames: The General, because he takes charge; the Taliban Cat, because he always watches the morning news with my boyfriend (and for the past five years, the news has been about the Taliban); Toby Joe; and plain ol' T.

T is a cat of routines. He wants his breakfast and dinner at the same hour every day, and will beg for food at the appropriate time whether there's food in his bowl or not. He scratches on my bathroom door at the same time each morning, which coincides with me drying off after a shower. He leaves when I finish combing my hair. He jumps on the couch at 7:15, 'cause that's when he and David "Taliban" (catch all the bad news on CNN). It's very disconcerting for him to have his routine disturbed.

Toby likes Just Right cereal, catnip, chicken, anything salty, and laying in front of the fireplace. And best of all, he likes me.