A Gentleman

Shackleton is wonderful boy. He has an air of quiet and calm about him as he goes about his days. He is a constant at the end of our bed- he's there when we leave in the morning and always settled in at our feet for the night. Every day when I leave the house, I say goodbye to each of our furry children. Usually the other cats require a hunt, but Shack is always waiting on the bed snuggled in with a white stuffed seal or sheep. He lifts his chin into the air so I can pet his neck and purrs his thanks. He turns down normal cat treats- politely- but loves a piece of honey baked ham in the morning. Shackleton is rarely vocal, except when asking to go down the basement so he can sit on a box and look out the basement window. He sits by the basement door and gazes up with such sweet eyes that, in spite of our determination that no cats go down the basement, we open the door and he trots happily down the stairs. Hating to trap him, we close the door most-but not all of the way. Inevitably, one of the other cats will discover that the door isn't really shut and will wedge it open with a paw. His or her brethren cats soon follow, so we round them all up and swear we aren't going to open it any more- until Shack asks the next time.