BYOB

My name is BYOB and yes, I know that's a weird name.  It actually has nothing to do with alcohol.  You see, I found this house that put food outside for homeless kitties like me and I kept going there and trying to convince the lady of the house to let me in.  Well, it worked – one day when it was 32 degrees and raining (I was soaked to the skin), she enticed me into the house with some yummy food and just as I stepped over the threshold, she scooted me across the doorway with her hand and slammed the door.  I freaked out for a minute or two, but then I knew I had been rescued. 

To her, BYOB stands for "Back Yard Orange Boy," but sometimes she calls me "Back yard Bobby."  You can call me whatever you want as long as you give me lots of love.  I'm about 6 years old (nobody remembers my birthday) and I'm neutered and FIV positive.  That's why they call me "Special Needs."  Well, that and the fact that I suffer from chronic stomatitis (I have special medicine that I take daily).

But, I'm dealing with those problems and in my head I feel like a champ.  And, I'm not proud – I will reach up and grab your hand and get you to pet me.  I love it when you do.   Won't you give me a chance?  My system number is DB-102-19 and I want to come to your house.  O.K.?

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