Taroko George, the golden cat

Every time I look at my cat, I think about how quickly life can change.

Taroko George, the golden cat

Taroko George clawed his furry little way into our hearts in a very serendi-paw-tious manner one year ago. We celebrated our anniversary of togetherness on Octopurr 15. And now the time has come to release him back into the wild. I’ll miss him, but if you really love something, you have to let it go.

Money money money!

I’m kidding! Obviously, I’m never letting George go. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you might remember that Ron and I witnessed George being dumped by two rapscallions outside of the cat café, but it wasn’t until the next morning that we realized he was a foundling and not one of the café’s foster kittens. We were going to meet my uncle for coffee and Ron was walking down the street to get his pre-coffee coffee. He turned down a different corner than he usually does, bumped into George and, assuming that George had escaped from the cat café, scooped him up and brought him back to our apartment for safekeeping.


Of course, we found out later that George was unspoken for. We’ve been covered in ginger and white fur ever since.


I often think about how Taroko George might not be part of our family today if Ron hadn’t been out earlier than usual that morning and hadn’t taken a detour. We’d probably have another cat now (maybe a Maine Coon), but he or she wouldn’t be George, in all his George-iness. I can’t even think about that awful parallel universe without dry heaving.

George looks up

George shows me he loves me in so many ways. Once he jumped on the soft part of my tummy while I was sleeping, nearly causing an internal hemorrhage.

“Hey!” I screamed.

“Herro,” he said, and licked my nose.

L'il paw

Another time George was miffed because I threw him out of the bedroom for chewing on my hand. From the other side of the door, I heard him meowing desperately and then…

Waka waka waka!”

Just like a murderous version of Fozzie the Bear! (“Why do elephants have trunks? Because they don’t have glove compartments! Waka waka waka!”)

Dignified George

I am currently reading “Making the Rounds With Oscar.” Oscar reminds me of George, because I am pretty sure George will be able to predict my death, in that he is planning to kill me by either gnawing through one of my veins or drowning me in his saliva during a nose licking marathon.


When he is not trying to destroy Ron and me, George brings us much joy. It’s a bit lonely working from home, but George is a wonderful assistant when he is not ripping pages out of my reporting notebooks one by one.

George contemplates my destruction

While re-reading this entry, I realize I make it sound like my cat hates me. That’s not true. We’re secretly in love. Actually, it’s not even that big a secret.

Taroko George and Crabby

When I write my own bestselling memoir about Taroko George, it’s going to be called “Taroko George: I Named My Cat After a Gorge… the Gorge in my Heart.” I’m a big fan of Temple Grandin’s books, especially “Animals Make Us Human.” Animals do indeed make us human. We enrich our humanity by the bonds we form with them and the way we treat them.

Taroko George makes my life richer. Taroko George Makes Me Catherine.