Sarah loves him so much she tried to make him an indoor cat to spend more time with us.
It worked for a little while until he began "marking his territory" over pretty much everything.
Sarah tolerates it trying to correct things until ...
Gypsy lovingly jumps on the sofa as Maddie, our clueless 15 year old who knows everything, watches television and ... pees on her.
Maddie screams at the warm expression of love.
Sarah immediately determines Gypsy needs to again become an outdoor cat lest he start showering the same affection on her.
Gypsy adjusts pretty well.
He used to spend all of his time trying to break out but now he spends all of his time trying to break in.
I suppose it comes down to which side of the glass you're on.
When Hurricane Matthew slammed into Tybee Island, we pack up the kids and the dogs but leave the cat outside.
"He's going to die," Laurel the 12 year old sobs.
"He'll be fine," Sarah replies without emotion, winking at me to stay out of it.
Upon our return, trees lay in our yard and house, the roof's mostly gone, but Gypsy's fine on the back deck still trying to get inside.
That's four lives Gypsy has burned through so far.
They say a cat has nine lives and ours is at the tipping point.
Staring at the stars in the black sky, steam rises from the hot water in the outdoor shower hitting my body as I brush my teeth listening to the Ocean sloppily kisses the shore in the distance.
It's a lovely, albeit, slightly chilly morning.
Thank God for hot water!
No shrinkage.
Grabbing my razor to shave various body parts, Gypsy ... our outdoor cat ... jumps on the wooden shower door with his tail straight up and hisses at me.
"Halloween is over dumbass," I spit, lathering up with shaving cream.
The cat looks away but doesn't move.
It strikes me, I've already lived way more lives than a cat is allotted ... I'm on 14 or so.
Shaving under the stars, I count them all.
Life as a child ... becoming a man ... educated man ... independent man ... married man ... a family man ... divorced man ... career man ... married man ... traveling man ... semi-famous man ... divorced man ... happily married man ... father of Baby Che.
Yep, that's 14 lives so far!
"Hey Gypsy," I say out loud feeling content and excited about the day, "you've only got five left! I've already beat you big time!"
The cat hisses and disappears into the breaking dawn.
Lingering in the shower, pointing my head to the sky, I say, "Hey God! You listening?"
It's silent.
"Of course you're listening," I continue. "You're God!"
God doesn't seem to find this funny and keeps quiet.
"I had no idea what you meant with the whole being born again thing ... but so far I've been born again 14 times and I appreciate that. Each life has contributed to where I am now which ... well it may not be where you want me to be but ... it's awful damn close."
And in the distance, someone laughs.
