Pasha, From Animal Shelter to A Sheltered Life
by Inge H. Borg
When the flaming-orange tom was brought to the local animal shelter, he was messy. And he stank. That darn cat never took his eyes off me. They were not quite green and not quite yellow; they were round, and alert, and reflected light like precious stones set in orange gold. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ I told him. I already had two cats.