We own a new cat.
Anthony got him this weekend while I was away.
Naturally, when I got home last night, I immediately went searching for it. Eventually I discovered that it was hiding inside of it's comfy cat carrier, a cat carrier with two holes inconveniently smaller than both my arms. I tried grabbing it, but my eager hands were only met with loud purring noises. I soon realized that pulling out the cat quickly was an impossible task, but never fear. For you see, I have a clever mind (clever as a cat some might say), so I flipped the cat carrier on it's side and started shaking it until something furry fell out.
That was when I met my new kitty companion.

He's a charming black cat with a hip attitude. I call him Basil, but I'm pretty sure I'm alone in that assertion.
I will post pics soon.

In the meantime, enjoy this cat related article I wrote for the Chimes last week.
It wasn't posted on their website for some reason, but who am I to judge?
I pasted it after the following video of a cat with a neck cone.

Kitties at Biola
Zach Newcott

You might not know this, but there are wild animals at Biola. They’re small, fluffy, have whiskers, and to be specific, they’re cats. But there’s something troubling about these animals, mainly in the fact that they won’t let people, and by people, I mean me, pet them. What’s the deal? I’m not big. I’m not threatening. I can’t even convincingly give a high five without holding my hand afterwards in agonizing pain. So why won’t these cats let me even touch them? Come on.
Now, some people might look to me and say, “Zack. Let’s be honest here. You don’t want to pet a wild animal. They’re dirty, probably rife with diseases, and you’re allergic to animals anyways.” To those people I say, “Don’t spit in a bucket and call it a sundae!” I like animals. Sure they make my eyes water, my throat close up, and cause me to sneeze until I pass-out, but they’re furry. If I fancy taking a puppy and rubbing it against my face, then I will do as I so desire. This is America. If I want to scare a kitten by briefly placing its head in my mouth while saying “OM NOM NOM,” I can, have, and will do so. That is precisely why Obama is our president.
It’s our duty as human beings to be caretakers of the animal kingdom. After all, does not the Bible ask of us, “Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon? Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned? Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?” Just let those words marinate for a bit. As caretakers of the world it is our duty, nay, obligation, to pet the furriest of God’s creatures.
Now, I can’t assume that these cats are capable of reading, but had they glanced at my resume they would have seen my extensive cat petting experience. True, had to learn a lot from my first cat Stimpy after frequently cornering it with dinosaur toys, throwing it at my brother, and occasionally putting a sock over its head, but what’s life without a little playful teasing? What can I say? I’m curious. Curious like a cat even. Besides, it ran away and never returned, so no harm no foul. Quid Pro Quo. I got to pet a cat, and the cat got to be petted until it ran away from me because I pet it too much. The system works.
The cats at Biola are different. They hate being petted, even without prior knowledge of how much fun it is for humans to stick tape to their sides and watch them awkwardly stumble. Just the other day my girlfriend Beth witnessed a cat in front of Eagles Nest being petted by a girl with a stick. A stick. Is that really the closest we can come to experiencing kitty fluffiness first-hand, at stick-length? It’s a sick world we’re living in.
This weekend I met the animals living at Beth’s home, and I must say that they gave me hope for the future. With these cats and doggies I feel at peace, my hands clasping chunks of shed hair as evidence of petting. Although I am typing this with swollen, tearing eyes, it’s worth it. So don’t fear, all you dreamers seeking a furry friend out there. Pet worthy pets do exist. And someday, when Biola finally comes to their senses, you can own one too. In the meantime you’ll just have to keep that contraband Chinchilla in your closet.

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