Clementine arrived in March: a four-year-old ginger with one torn ear and a habit of sitting just out of reach. She was not a lap cat. She was not, for the first month, much of anything cat, preferring the top shelf and a view of the bar.
Devin and Sam came in for a coffee on a Wednesday, went into the lounge on a whim and were adopted, as far as we can tell, by Pierogi. They came back the next week for Pierogi. And the week after that. On the third visit, Clementine climbed down, sat on the bench next to Sam and looked at the wall for forty minutes. That was it.
Marc wrote up her notes, Ellie handled the application with Prairie Paws, and she went home ten days later with a folder, a blanket that smelled of the lounge and a firm instruction to buy a radiator bed.
They send photos. She is on the radiator in every one of them.
