Officially, his name is Oliver. Personally, I call him Scrubs and not for any reason you would probably guess. Like all of us, Scrubs has a beginning; unfortunately, nobody knows what that beginning is. And so, Scrubs’ beginning starts with our dog, Phoebe.

It has been a very long time since we’ve owned just one dog, but here we are. In fact, the last time we owned just one dog was in early 1999. From that year on, we’ve always owned at least two, and at one point four, which quickly dropped to three and then back down to two. I love dogs. I love this dog, though I have to admit she is kind of weird. She’s a whiner and a complainer. If she doesn’t get her morning walk, she acts like she’s going to die. If you dare to leave the house without giving her a morning walk, she throws a temper tantrum that the entire neighborhood can hear. She is exceptional in the very worst sense of the word. She is Phoebe and being part coon hound, she is a nothing more than a fifty-pound smeller.

Morning walks are spent with her nose to the ground like she’s hot on the trail of some scent. This is the highlight of her day. Everyday. Normally her smelling is all for naught. So, you can imagine her excitement when one day, while passing by a bit of Florida pines and scrub palms she actually found something. There underneath a scrub palm was a teeny-tiny kitten. All black with green eyes, he was sitting there all alone. When I tried to approach him he ran back into the dense scrub palms. I wanted to look for him, but Cliff said his mother was probably back in the woods and that he was safe. I decided he was probably right and we went on our way.

A few days later, we saw the kitten again and decided he really was alone. He let Phoebe get fairly close to him, which made me think the poor little thing knew it needed help. But when I tried again to catch him, he ran away. I told our oldest daughter about him and she tried to find him, but didn’t see him. We continued on like this looking, not finding, wondering how something so small could be on its own. Finally, one afternoon our son-in-law and granddaughter looked, saw, and captured the little guy. They brought him home, bathed him and kept him. They initially named him Cricket, but soon changed his name to Oliver. I call him Scrubs for the scrub palm we found him in.

Scrubs origins are still a mystery to us. How did he end up in the scrub palms? What happened to his family? Why was he alone? We’ll probably never know, but Scrubs is now a very happy little cat. He almost seems grateful to be able to be a kitten, free to play with no worries of where he will sleep, what he will eat…

He even has a brother and mentor now in the form of Fat Cat a.k.a. Jack-Jack. (I obviously make up my own names for other family member’s pets.) Though I’m not so sure that Fat Cat is pleased with his new charge. Still Fat Cat will be a good teacher for the important things all cats need to learn like ~
How to disregard those around you and act like you’re annoyed with them until you need someplace soft to sleep, like their beds…under the covers…while they’re in them. The puzzling part of this is how something so small can take up as much space as a human.  Or…

How to find the most expensive piece of furniture in the house to use as your favorite scratching post even though you have a lovely meant-to-be-a-scratching post, right beside it.  Or…
How to lay across your person’s computer, puzzle, writing, drawing, dinner; because you’ve decided you’d like some attention now. Of course, they tried to cuddle with you just five minutes ago on the couch; but you didn’t want the attention then. Or…
How to have absolutely no regard for personal space, i.e. lying on your person’s head, shoulders, knees, and toes; knees and toes. Or…
Deciding that the only food you will eat is the most expensive cat food sold in any store.

These are just a few things that Scrubs will learn in the foreseeable future. For now, he’s still just a crazy little kitten, running around the house like a very small tornado, wreaking havoc on everything in his path. Actually, there is one thing he has already learned from Fat Cat.

Fat Cat loves to sit on the toilet lid while our granddaughter is getting ready in the morning. Seems he likes to play with the water in the bathroom sink. Of all of the above lessons that Scrubs can learn, he decided to learn this one first. Alas, poor Scrubs is very little and though he can jump onto the toilet lid, he can’t tell if it’s up or down before he jumps. This almost led to his subsequent drowning in a toilet full of tinkle. (Little boys have a thing about closing the lid and flushing.) Fortunately, Madyson was there to rescue him. In spite of what she knew he was covered in she quickly reached in and saved him. And then, just as quickly, bathed him in whatever liquid soap she could find. Madyson does not like dirty things or things she deems disgusting, which can be almost anything and everything when you’re a fifteen-year-old girl. She has saved Scrubs twice. Once when she captured him in the scrub palm, knowing he was probably covered in fleas and other bugs, she really hates bugs; and once when she rescued him from the terrible fate of drowning in a bowl full of tinkle. She is a brave soul, our girl…She is a very big deal!