Mike Tyson

This is Mike Tyson.
When we got the puppy, Evil the Cat had to be kicked outside, therefore, her food also had to be kicked out.  Mike Tyson would come around and eat all of Evil's food.  I would bang on the window and throw rocks in his direction (to scare him, not to hit him).  I was determined not to feed the entire population of stray cats.

Mike Tyson was a HUGE cat when we first met.  His body was big and his balls swung when he walked.  Then he mewed.  And it was the sound of a three month old kitten.  So I named him Mike Tyson.

I had a dream that Shawn had admonished me for not feeding this cat.  "You of all people!  Such an animal lover!" he'd said.  The dream was so realistic, I thought it had actually happened when I woke up.

Mike Tyson refused to be afraid of me.  He'd caught on pretty early in the game that I wasn't actually trying to hit him with small sticks and rocks.  He began to befriend me by sitting on the window sill and running the length of his mammoth body along the glass.

He slowly started to approach me and rub against my legs.  I rubbed his neck and ears and he mewed like a feline version of how the real Mike Tyson might.

A true Tom, I see this cat inconsistently.  He recently came by for a visit and Evil hissed and growled from the front porch.  Mike Tyson lay on the step below my feet and rolled onto his back, showing his belly.  I rubbed his tummy like a dog and thought it was so odd for this dirty, now too thin, stray to be showing his under belly.

I ran off Evil for a few minuets and coaxed Mike Tyson to eat a little.  I may not see him for another week or two, but I look forward to hearing his odd mew and experiencing this weird, unadulterated trust for a complete stranger.