Sherman here.   What you’re going to read here is my real story.  I figure whose gonna tell my story better than me. It’s one thing to read about hardship, but I had to live it.  I know what it’s like to sleep under a car, to defend my territory or scounge for food.  Or, at least I did.

Just before I moved into my present spacious accommodations, I was working a racket out on the streets.  I had this mark convinced I was doing him a favor by eating his food for almost three months – one of the best scams I ever ran.  But, I played it too long.    One day, this guy grabs me and turns me in.   Said I wasn’t his – he only fed me and my pal for three months.  I couldn’t believe it!  There I was, a street smart, tough “Tom”.  Stuck at the humane society.

Being in a warm place with three squares a day wasn’t too bad, though, until my scruffy ears and “manliness” made some people suspicious of my health.  Sure enough, they ran some tests and said I had some disorder called FIV, feline immunodeficiency virus.  Guess it’s pretty common with scrappy old tomcats like me.

They was goin’ to put me in solitary, but I copped a plea.  I said, you gotta get me out of this place and the warden, I mean the Executive Director, fell for it.  Said I could be on work release in the office.   Sos, I started working around the office, looking cute, keeping laps warm, and funny thing, I liked it!   Can you believe, a tough guy like me going soft?

I earn my keep, let me tell you.  All day long my co-workers march dogs past me just to see what they think of old Sherman.  I put my seal of approval on the dogs that like me and my claws on the dogs that don’t.    I save my best work for the puppies.  In fact, some people complain that I do my work too well.  I make playing with puppies look so easy.   I guess some of them puppies go home to cats who don’t enjoy playing.  I’ve known a few cats like that.  Why they want to be so uptight, I’ll never know.

Ya, living here ain’t too shabby.  The work is stimulating and there’s always someone in the kitchen when I takes my break.   It don’t bother me none when people call me Shoiman or Sherman Tank or Sherminator.  Even Shermit.  Matter of fact, I kinda like the attention.

Your buddy in happy times,

Sherman