This little cutie came to live with me four years ago after his previous owner died. He is six years old now. My friend Debbie lived next door to Atticus (whose name was "Ratachak" then, ugh) and his owner, and when Rainie died, Debbie asked me if I would take her kitty.
When I got there, the poor little thing was so far under a cart in the kitchen that I had to lay down on the floor to reach him. It took a while to get him out, and he wouldn't stop crying.
After I got him home, he camped out in my basement for the first six months. He wouldn't come near me or anybody else. He had a bed down there that he stayed on, and whenever anybody came downstairs, he would hide. He was sad and grieving for a long time.
Eventually he started coming upstairs and hanging out, though he has never gotten friendly with any of the other cats. Last year he really shocked me by getting into bed and sleeping with me while other cats were there. He will only sleep with me once in a while, as a special treat for me I guess. But he still won't let other people see him, except on rare occasions when he will saunter through the room when I have a date over. Probably just to check him out and make sure he's good enough for me. To this day, my mom doesn't know I have him and he's been here for four years!
Atticus has a habit of growling at other cats, especially Reese. If Reese is even in the same room, Atticus will carry on like he is some kind of big scary mountain lion. It's very amusing and has earned him the nickname "Professor Grumbly-Puss."
I named him after Atticus Finch of To Kill a Mockingbird because I just couldn't live with the name "Ratachak" and Atticus had enough of the same sound that I didn't think it would be too hard for him to get used to it. He's a very sweet boy who hates to be held but loves to snuggle up next to me in bed.