The other day I was makin’ my rounds of the offices, testing the auto-repeat function of various peoples’ keyboards; a duty I take serious because it always delights the person what is tryin’ to do some work.  My best estimate is that when I sit down on someone’s computer keys, more than 93.6 percent of the time, they will stop starin’ into that screen an say to me, “Oh Sherman, look at what you did!” real excited like.  After that I am most certainly gonna get picked up or at least hugged – what was my intention in the first place.  I gotta tell you, I works with a great bunch of people, always willing to interrupt their work to commune a little with ol’ Sherm.

So there I was, just about ready to jump up onto Robyn’s desk, when I get the unmistakable notion that I was bein’ stared at – from behind no less.  Now I been out on the street in my life, and I guess you never get over feelin’ a little creepy known’ that there is someone behind you what you didn’t right away notice bein there. So I made a little dodge an spun around real quick like.  I was all wound up for a second there, but right away I realizes that whoever it was starin’ at me was doin’ it through the screen of a cat carrier.

Of course I relaxed right away and sorta gave a lick on my right paw and looked off into the distance, you know nonchalant like, so as not to give way how hard my heart was poundin.   An’ then I says, “What gives?” But no one says, “What gives your own self?” back to me, what is particularly impolite amongst cats.  I was a miffed a little at the snub, so I looked around real hard like getting ready to heap disdain ‘till I realizes that there wasn’t any cat at all in that carrier.  It was two of the littlest kittens I had ever seen what wasn’t pressed up against the belly of their mum.

Turns out Robyn, who is our foster coordinator, was carin’ for the little guys.  And it’s a good thing too, she knows a lot about kittens and puppies what are too young or too sick to stay here at the shelter.  She has a whole network of volunteers to help her out too.  An now she has one more.  I have been keepin’ a close watch on Ivory and Babe whenever they are here.  I sit there on top of their carrier an’ I tell them stories about what its like grown’ up to be a cat.  Bein’ a cat can be rough if you end up on the street, but  Babe and his sister ain’t goin’ to end up out there.  So I tell them about how nice it can be to sit on a lap and purr the afternoon way…

But that is an entirely different story that you should remind me to tell you someday if you ever come to visit.

At first they wanted to call me Poppa, but I nixed that cause the humane society took care of that possibility, so now I am “Big Uncle Sherm.”  I like the sound of that.

Your Buddy,

Big Uncle Sherm