My brother-in-law’s mother has been getting hospice care at home. 

My sister asked if we would take mother-in-law’s cat.

You know the answer.

Well today, mother-in-law entered a hospice home and we got the call to come and get the cat.

Enter Moose.

How this sweet little guy got such a brawny-beefy name, I’ll never know. 

For some reason, I really really want to call him George, but he’s too old to be changing names now.

Moose and Murphy did a nose bump with no growls or hisses.  Berta has not gotten that close, but she isn’t growling or hissing either – just keeping an eye on this interloper.

Moose has ensconced himself under the bed in our guest bedroom.  For now, I have created Moose-World in that bedroom.  Replete with food, water and a potty box. 

Bill and I took turns dragging the hapless Moose out from under the bed for cuddles, which he tolerated well.  Even relaxing a bit on the bed with each of us with no restraint.  But eventually he went back to his place of safety.

I know that in a week or so, he’ll be totally at home and within the month, I’ll be crabbing at him for being underfoot.

But that seems forever from now. 

Still, he seems pretty much okay for a cat who has had his life turned upside down.

What he doesn’t know that by coming to live with us, he has definitely fallen into the smelt bucket.