Colorado, My Home

I suppose you’ve been wondering where I’ve been lately? While we were checking out the California Superbloom, my Grampy called Tom and said he needed some help fixing up our cabin in Colorado. A lot has happened since then, so I’ll just tell you the highlights.

But first, in case you didn’t know, Tom isn’t my real daddy. I was adopted. I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. You can read more about that in How I Met Tom. When Tom adopted me, I got a whole new family in Colorado.

The “Cabin”

I’m love having Colorado as my adopted home. Tom’s family has a vacation house that he and Grampy built near Cripple Creek. We call it “The Cabin”. It’s one of my favorite places to stay. Deer, turkey, lot’s of different kinds of squirrels, and even a big striped kitty named “Bob” come to visit us! 

When we’re not staying at the cabin, we stay down in Colorado Springs with my adopted Grammy and Grampy. They’re really nice, but I have to be careful around Grammy. My claws scratch her pretty easily.

“Bob” the Bobcat

We spent a lot of time with Grampy at the cabin this summer. There was a really bad storm last year, and ice stones from the sky made a lot of dents in the cabin. We had to get a new roof. I love the word “roof”.  It’s one of the few human words I can actually say.

Also, some people came to fix up the deck. And, some other people cleaned the outside of the house and painted where the ice stones knocked off the old paint. Tom says the place hasn’t looked this good since he and Grampy built it 40 years ago!

Lastly, I have some good news and some bad news. First, the bad news: I had a cancer lump on my back. The good news is that it’s gone, and probably won’t come back. The lump showed up earlier this year. Tom took me in to see the vet near Grammy and Grampy’s house. The vet stuck a needle in me to take a sample. She called Tom to give him the bad news, and they set up an appointment for me to have surgery.

Cone of Shame

I hate surgery! First, they knocked me out. It took me the rest of the day after I woke up till I could walk again! Then, I had to wear the “cone of shame” until they took the stitches out. I’m not sure why it’s called the cone of shame, but Tom thinks it’s pretty funny.

Anyway, I got the stitches out, and the vet says it was the best cancer I could have. It was easy to remove and she got it all out. Best of all, it vary rarely comes back! That suits me fine. Good riddance.

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