Every day for a week I would look at that access road where we found him to see if there was somebody looking for something, but of course, there wouldn't be.
I confess, I was hoping to give him back, if, on the odd chance, somebody showed up looking anxious and concerned. I did it for a week yet no one showed up.
That’s how he got his name “Limpy” — Limpy limped. We actually had decided on ‘Hoppy’, as in the first few days he moved like a rabbit when released from the huge cardboard box in which we had quarantined him, so as to protect him from being bothered by the other two inquisitive kittens.
“Let’s call him ‘Magic’ if his leg ever recovers,” said my husband. Yet immediately as we named him ‘Hoppy’, his movement transformed to that of a limp, as if being compared to a rabbit was beneath him.And so ‘Limpy’ it was. If we had followed through on my husband’s suggestion, today we would call him ‘Magic’.
Limpy has beautiful, short, and extremely soft fur. Besides the burnt-orange, golden-hued badge worn on his back that zips up from his tail and the brown butterfly hairdo emblazoned on his head, ears as wings, he is pure white minus a blemish or two. His eyes, a greenish-yellow, are marked to the side by what looks like, from a distance, mascara, giving them a distinctive Egyptian quality.
