An Expanding Family

We adopted a new cat.

This is Binx. He's between 10 and 14 years old, solid black with some gray hairs and the friendliest damn thing you've ever met.

If he hadn't already come with a name, I maybe would have called him "Shadow", as that is what he is: A little black shadow following whoever is moving from room to room, hoping for a lap.

Clark was voting for "Darth Vader." And really, we would have let him rename him, but the instant we got him home from the Whitman County Animal Shelter in Pullman, Clark was running around the house calling, "hi Binx! Hi Binx!" And so the given name stuck.

Which is fine, because (whether the original honors intended it or not) it's an homage to Thackery Binx, the cat/boy from "Hocus Pocus." And having a creature named for a Halloween movie was just fine with TJ.


I sat on the fence on the cat issue for a few weeks. I still miss Dave. A lot. But the more I look at the evidence, the more I know that he was sick and dying and is not coming home. I haven't gone without a cat for more than a few months in my entire life. It was just something we already had: Whiskers Tuna Breath (the First, and then, the Second) -- we just called him Whiskers. He was a solid black cat, too. Then we had Wonton, our Siamese. And then Mittens (who we called LSD). And then finally Dusty, the longest lasting of the Cummings Family Felines. And shortly after leaving home and getting my own place at 18, I adopted Dave.

I chose Dave because when I picked him up at the shelter, he wrapped his arms around my neck and practically screamed, "Get me out of here." He needed me.

When I picked up Binx, he curled into my chest and put his head under my chin, and purred. Like he already belonged.

He came with a heart-breaking background: He was the kitten of one family, gotten to be the companion of an autistic child. The family fell into hard times. One day, he was picked up by a neighbor and brought to the shelter: He'd been attacked by something, had an ear infection, infected wounds and other trauma. A month later, the family finally realized he was missing and came looking, but when faced with the vet bill decided to pass on having him back.

I hate to hear that anyone would turn their back on a decade-old friend. But it's a second- or third-hand tale, so it's hard to pass judgement.

Regardless, he's with us now. And hopefully his insecurity will wane as he realizes that we're not giving him up or sending him back. He's a Tranchell now.

As much as he may have needed us, I also needed him: A house isn't a home without a cat, and though I still grieve Dave, my heart is a little less empty now that there's something else fuzzy around to fill it.