My mother has my two boy cats, a female named Callie and she had this disreputable looking old fleabag named Fred. Fred was a wretched, spoiled homely excuse for a cat. His face was lopsided. His ears were crumpled and he was a most unattractive shade of orange. Normally I like orange cats but Fred was just a weird shade. And he was a whiny little cuss. He'd follow me through the house (me of course, only me) crying and weaving in and out between my feet until I picked him up and carried him about like a baby licking my chin.
Fred liked to sleep on cars. In fact, I once had to drive the better part of a block before his dumb self would get OFF! Aggravating little hairball.
About a month ago Fred was hit by a car. The vet tried to save him, but it became clear that the damage to his jaw, throat and internal organs was so severe he could not be fed. He had to be put down. Mom buried him and planted some flowers in the bucket of dirt he liked to sleep on.
The mailman misses him. Fred used to follow him on his route. My grandparents miss him- they take a daily walk and Fred was always waiting for them at our gate as they passed by.
And I miss the rotten critter. Miss his nagging and whining. Miss the lump sleeping on my hair when I spent the night. Miss the orange hair on EVERYTHING I took with me to their house- because, of course, Fred only ever wanted to sleep on MY stuff. I dug out a cloak today and it was covered (navy blue wool) in orange and white cat hair. >sniff< Dumb old Fred. He'll be on that rainbow bridge and I bet you a dollar I'm going to have to carry his mangy carcass across, with my chin being licked the whole way.
Fred liked to sleep on cars. In fact, I once had to drive the better part of a block before his dumb self would get OFF! Aggravating little hairball.
About a month ago Fred was hit by a car. The vet tried to save him, but it became clear that the damage to his jaw, throat and internal organs was so severe he could not be fed. He had to be put down. Mom buried him and planted some flowers in the bucket of dirt he liked to sleep on.
The mailman misses him. Fred used to follow him on his route. My grandparents miss him- they take a daily walk and Fred was always waiting for them at our gate as they passed by.
And I miss the rotten critter. Miss his nagging and whining. Miss the lump sleeping on my hair when I spent the night. Miss the orange hair on EVERYTHING I took with me to their house- because, of course, Fred only ever wanted to sleep on MY stuff. I dug out a cloak today and it was covered (navy blue wool) in orange and white cat hair. >sniff< Dumb old Fred. He'll be on that rainbow bridge and I bet you a dollar I'm going to have to carry his mangy carcass across, with my chin being licked the whole way.