Hello. My name is Cori. I’m a new volunteer at Tabby’s Place. I’ve had cats all my life; at the moment, I have two. One of them saved my life two summers ago, but that’s a long story not worth telling in Alex’s space. I came to Tabby’s Place because I wanted to help give back the dignity and respect that all felines deserve.

This month I became Alex’s Special Needs Correspondent. When I met him, I was touched by the contrast between his frail body and his big loud voice. A cat with a voice like that is a born survivor, no matter how unfortunate his previous circumstances might have been. That first day, he didn’t seem to believe that I was there to visit him. He hated my attempts to brush him. He was so thin that touching his ribs or his hindquarters must have been painful.

The next time I visited, he seemed indifferent to me. I tried to “brush” him with a pair of brushing gloves, but he reacted the same way he had to the brush: “Hands off, Lady!” Clearly he was feeling poorly that day; all he did was pace around the room and whine. I learned that on Monday, December 13, he would be taken to a dental vet who had the equipment to monitor his heart while cleaning his teeth. I wished him luck as I scratched his chin and his head.

But Alex didn’t get his teeth taken care of that day. The vet thought that, at seven pounds, the poor guy was just too skinny and frail to go through the procedure. So our goal now is to get Alex to gain weight. He’s allowed to eat all the wet food he wants, whenever he wants it.

I sat with him while he ate three helpings (about one full six-ounce can) in his private crate. He licked his chops and gave himself a bath, and he swatted Rambo when he got too close. Several times Alex put one paw in my lap, as if he were contemplating sitting there. He didn’t quite dare do that, not today, but he was far more receptive than during my first two visits. When I left him today, he was purring, and he butted my chin when I kissed him goodbye. I hope he’s beginning to trust me.