cats, family, friendship, Mental Health, writing, Young Adult fiction

The Tale of Toby


(Pun not intended. Sorry, guys.)

For those of you who aren’t acquainted with this furry blessing, his name is Toby. Or, Furtration, Mouser Man, the Polecat, and a few other terms of endearment that aren’t coming to me right now. We do actually sometimes call him Toby, too.

Tobias Nelson, I christened him shortly after he adopted me. He was already owned by my husband, before his title was husband, so White Fang and I were the newcomers. Toby was a shelter rescue, and we’ve given him a good home. In return, he has turned my heart to honorary fur.

In fact, I am the Cat Whisperer — I tend to be able to form a bond with cats who are known for being shy around people. Toby is no exception. But he has done for me what only one other cat has emotionally (sorry, folks, I can’t talk about that yet).

Now 13 years old (interestingly, so is White Fang), Toby has used probably 5 of his 9 lives, through being a sheer daredevil. He will chase anything that runs on four legs, climb trees, jump over fences, belly-crawl under porches. He is truly a Warrior cat.

He has been my companion during cold winter nights, a pain in my neck when I’m trying to write, an inspiration while I’m writing, the muse for several projects by myself and White Fang. He is my furbaby.


He’s also a survivor in more ways than one. Through the years, he’s shown serious signs of some PTSD, and has overcome a great deal of it. The SPCA saved him from whatever terrible fate he was facing; then he came to us, and we’ve helped him to thrive, and he’s changed our lives forever.

When Muffin arrived, that was a new experience for both cat and baby. Baby, of course, because everything’s new to him; cat because White Fang was already in kindergarten when they first met. Toby has, overall, handled having a small human around with patience and aplomb. (Not 100%, but that’s to be expected.)

Late this summer, we discovered a very serious wound on Toby’s leg, and he had to spend a week at the vet’s being treated. It was a period of intense stress (for all of us). Having him home again — although it took another two weeks for the injury to be completely healed — was just incredible and beautiful.

If I had my way, Toby would be nearly immortal, and we’ll never have to think about being parted from him.

Sssh, let me have the fantasy.



4 thoughts on “The Tale of Toby”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s