Regular readers know that the morning that my wife and I left for Denmark our cat, O’Shea, suffered renal failure and we had to put her down half an hour before driving to the airport.
Well, Claudia told me between tears on the way back that she and my son Robb would gang up on me and force me to get a new cat. Regular readers know that upon our return we got a “providential” email resulting in Tanit.
Shortly after that we got another email telling us about, Moloch, a male kitten, named for Carthage’s God of the sun. Moloch we were told had been confined to a cage for two months. I emailed back my friend, the Animal Allies volunteer, telling her that if she didn’t send my any more guilt inducing emails about damned cats I’d take Moloch too.
My son is in heaven. I picked them up this afternoon and my allergies haven’t kicked in yet. The boy, Moloch, is oblivious to Tanit, the Godess of the Moon who hisses everytime he blunders by.  I get a special kick out of Moloch because I’ve always liked Manx cats with their stubby tails. Moloch’s tail wags like a Republican’s finger.                 Â
 
Tanit                         Moloch
