Cam Not Shafted

Cam started life in the backseat of a Chevrolet Malibu. His Ma was a slick little tabby who was known around the autoparts yard as Purrdy and his Pa was one of many vagabond boys who slipped under the chainlink fence and were all known as Tom. Cam was lucky to be picked up by a doting farm lady whose husband was searching for a used gas cap. (The farm lady had forgotten to replace the one in their truck when she filled up at the local station - that cap is still lying in the scrub grass somewhere along 20 miles of dirt road). Her loss soon became her gain and Cam's salvation. He traded cars for cows with the bonus of fresh cream straight from the udder, every morning. That was well nigh 16 years ago and Cam never looked back, he's had a good life, a couple of sparring wounds he gained prior to neutering have added character. A whiff of used engine oil brings flashbacks of his kittenhood. Batting at a tree shaped old scentless airfreshener or climbing the tattered seats while chasing his siblings in a rousing game of tag. And the special memory of curling up next to Purrdy while she told exciting stories of living the high life in Malibu.

Done