I can't imagine what Puck went through when his leg was injured. When he came to us he was about twelve weeks old. His leg had been removed a few weeks before and his fur was still growing back over healing incision. He was fostered by a marvelously kind and patient woman named Sue who brought him to our apartment. From his first evening in our living room Puck has been sweet and brave, a little bundle of hopping energy. Nothing slows him down. I watch him every day test jumps, explore the closet shelves, and teach himself how to get onto various pieces of furniture. You can see a video of him climbing the bookcase and then Agatha's cage here.
Hie is just remarkable, especially in light of the hardship he faced as a kitten. Every night he sleeps beside me, rolling under my chin when we face each other, or spooning my back when I turn over. I feel pretty honored.
He's a happy go lucky little charmer, always curious, always gentle, a terribly sweet little guy. We're so lucky to have him! Elvis thinks so too.
|Elvis and Puck relaxing beside my desk.|