It’s a writing in the hammock kind of day. The sun is shining, but the pines are giving me enough shade to stay cool. It is that particular brand of fall day when it’s a little hot in the sun and a little cool in the shade.

Herbie the Fat Cat is what’s on my mind. The middle child of my pets, both in age and in size, Herbie is a great cat. He doesn’t do anything and it’s wonderful.

I got Herbie almost ten years ago, mainly as a friend for Ed. I was travelling a lot and Ed was pretty wound up back when he was around two years old. So when my friend said she had a big lazy stray that she had taken in, I went and met Herbie.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but when I go to “meet” a potential pet, I know that I’m going to take him home. It’s not even a question. When I got to Lorena’s house, there were five cats. Her mom already had a few, which is why they needed to unload Herbie. He was lying under their dining room table and let me scoop him up. He was (and is) grey striped on top and white underneath, almost like someone held him and dipped him a bucket of white paint. They had had Herbie de-clawed, which is something I would never do to a cat, but I have to admit that it’s kind of nice. I’ve never had money taken out of a security deposit because of Herbie

The humans chatted and Herbie smelled around his new carrier, finally going in to eat the treats I had tossed in there. When I got home with Herbie, Ed made his disapproval clear. It took two whole days for Ed to forget that Herbie was an intruder and the two of them started tearing around the house together. I had hoped that having a lazy tub around would calm Ed down, but it had the opposite effect. Herbie was almost as wild as Ed. He lost a couple of pounds in fat within six months.

The Big Guy goes by many names, most of which revolve around his weight. He isn’t really fat, he’s big boned. Seriously, he is. Herbie has now mellowed out a lot and seems to be taking to middle age nicely. He and Ed still wrestle, but the unabashed free-for-alls have dropped in number (Pico has filled that hole with all his might). When Herbie sleeps in bed, he doesn’t lie on the pillow or move around all night like Ed. When he jumps on the table, he doesn’t lay on my keyboard or book like Ed. He doesn’t bark or jump on you like Pico does. And he’s content to lie in the sun for hours on end. He’s my fat cat, and he’s the best fat cat I’ve ever known.