catslovers
He was just a tiny puff of fluff when he came bounding out of the woods near my apartment—about six weeks old, wide-eyed and full of energy, even though his little body was fighting a lot more than it should have been.
He had fleas, tapeworms, and the feline herpes virus, and yet, the moment he saw me, he ran right into my arms like he knew I was there to help. I tried to find his littermates—they were out there, too—but they were too quick, too scared. I couldn’t catch them. But this little guy? He wanted to be found.
Credit: PraisePotat
A vet visit, some meds, and his first taste of real food did wonders. Within weeks, he was already looking stronger, healthier, and full of himself. The transformation was incredible. Three weeks after I found him, he showed off that handsome face and bottomless energy.
He loves to play. With anything. All the time. He never tires out. Whether it’s a piece of string, a balled-up napkin, or your shoelace, the second you sit down—he’s on it.
At first, my two older cats—his new big sisters—weren’t thrilled. It took some time and a lot of supervised play sessions before they started to warm up to him. They tolerate him even if he still gets on their nerves sometimes.
Credit: PraisePotat
Today, he’s eight months old, growing into his looks and personality more every day. He’s sleek, mischievous, and undeniably charming. Oh, and did I mention?
He plays fetch.
Yes, really. He’ll drop a toy at your feet, stare at you expectantly, and take off the moment it flies across the room. It’s his favorite game—and one of mine, too.
From a sickly baby lost in the woods to a vibrant, playful, fetch-obsessed little star—this boy was meant to be found. And now?
He’s home, he’s loved, and he’s thriving.
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