Kittens are engaging and fearless and always adoptable, but there are always so many more than can possibly be taken. Adult cats whose owners have died or abandoned them hunch in their alien cages, needing homes and often not appearing as outgoing and affectionate as they can be. I watched a woman reach into a cage for a sleeping white cat. Startled, it hissed. She moved on. One hiss and you could be history in an animal shelter.
If Midnight Louie, quintessential survivor in life and literature, can do any good in the real world, I hope his popularity will help convince more people to (yes) neuter their cats and keep them indoors for their own safety; to consider adopting adult cats as well as kittens; to learn about feline behavior so that everybody in the household--human, dog, cat or whatever--can live happily together (and they can).
My husband and I had six cats before the tour began, and a young dog I had found dumped on a street corner only a couple months earlier. I saw so many cats I would have loved to take home. Finally, in Lubbock, Texas, a small black one with a scratchy mew and a broken tail became irresistible. We drove over six hundred miles to fetch Midnight Louie Jr. a few days later, and bring him home.
No one needs seven cats. But they need us.