Four years ago today Roscoe and I landed in Italy and began our new lives. We were a little bit worried when our human stuffed us into a plane, but some 10 hours (plus) later we arrived in our new home.
Roscoe and I hid under the bed for the first week or so, only coming out to eat and use the bathroom. But little by little we came to learn that we could trust our new home.
Roscoe's favorite place was on the bench on our upstairs terrace. Whenever he would come up missing, we all new that we could find him there sunning himself in the warm, Italian sun. I go there sometimes now either looking for him or just staying a moment to enjoy his favorite spot. It helps me feel close to him.
Not too many cats can call themselves expat cats. Roscoe and I always felt lucky to have lived in two different yet equally wonderful places.