When my wife was about 14 she was walking to school and heard a tiny mewling. (this was in metropolitan Los Angeles). She saw a bedraggled kitten, so tiny he couldn't climb up on the curb from the gutter, calling for help.
She adopted him "just til they could find someone to take him". He and her Cocker Spaniel puppy, Tweety, became fast friends and would play with each other endlessly.
A couple of years later he began spraying the entire house, and quickly became an outdoor cat. Her dad would get home from work to see Tyger outlined against the sky, sitting on top of their house. She'd see Tyger running by on the lawn, either with Tweety, or being chased by one of the local crows. Unlike most outdoor cats, he never wandered the neighboorhood, and always remained on the property near his family.
When he wanted attention he'd crawl in through the mail slot (no mean feat for a 20lb cat).
He was about 7 or 8 when she and I moved in together and adopted him. We figured it was safer for him to be an indoor cat (we had no lawn), and it took almost a year before he stopped trying to get out. He lived out the next 8 years of his life on our laps, never far from the side of the nearest human. He slept at my wife's feet every night, mostly because she doesn't kick and roll over in her sleep like I do. Often she'd wake to find him pinning down the covers, trapping her in bed.
He'd always purr when you picked him up, a loud even timbre, but if he wanted down he was fast to let you know it with a swat of his claws.
He got really sick his last year. His kidneys had failed, and we ended up having to give him subQ injections to keep him hydrated. After two weeks of the injections he was amazingly strong again, but he also wasn't going to let us give him any more injections. We decided it was better he be happy and die sooner then be scared of us and die later, so we kept him on a diet of K/D, and stopped the injections. He lived for almost another year, but eventually his health failed. He was down to about 8lbs when he died, and much of that was lost in the last couple of weeks.
We didn't realize at the time that the vet would let us keep his body if we put him to sleep, and we didn't want him to be thrown out as "biological waste", so when it became painfully obvious he wasn't long for the world I talked the vet into prescribing some powerful pain killers. I gave Tyger the injection, and he was in my wife's arms when he died a couple of hours later. We buried him under a big tree in our back yard. It was a selfish thing to do not to have him put to sleep, but somehow I think it was better this way. He wasn't in pain, and he was in the home he'd known for half his life.
a few days after he died my wife and I both woke up in a start. We'd both clearly heard the sound his collar and tags made when he scratched his neck coming from the foot of the bed. Logically I know it was the dog, on the porch, scratching behind her ears, and my imagination filling in the rest, but there's still part of me that believes...
He was a loving cat, and to this day (it's been almost 6 months, he was about 16 or 17) I can't look at a Ginger cat without wishing he was still here. We've gotten two adorable kittens since then, and that helped some, but still...
There's some pictures of him here.
She adopted him "just til they could find someone to take him". He and her Cocker Spaniel puppy, Tweety, became fast friends and would play with each other endlessly.
A couple of years later he began spraying the entire house, and quickly became an outdoor cat. Her dad would get home from work to see Tyger outlined against the sky, sitting on top of their house. She'd see Tyger running by on the lawn, either with Tweety, or being chased by one of the local crows. Unlike most outdoor cats, he never wandered the neighboorhood, and always remained on the property near his family.
When he wanted attention he'd crawl in through the mail slot (no mean feat for a 20lb cat).
He was about 7 or 8 when she and I moved in together and adopted him. We figured it was safer for him to be an indoor cat (we had no lawn), and it took almost a year before he stopped trying to get out. He lived out the next 8 years of his life on our laps, never far from the side of the nearest human. He slept at my wife's feet every night, mostly because she doesn't kick and roll over in her sleep like I do. Often she'd wake to find him pinning down the covers, trapping her in bed.
He'd always purr when you picked him up, a loud even timbre, but if he wanted down he was fast to let you know it with a swat of his claws.
He got really sick his last year. His kidneys had failed, and we ended up having to give him subQ injections to keep him hydrated. After two weeks of the injections he was amazingly strong again, but he also wasn't going to let us give him any more injections. We decided it was better he be happy and die sooner then be scared of us and die later, so we kept him on a diet of K/D, and stopped the injections. He lived for almost another year, but eventually his health failed. He was down to about 8lbs when he died, and much of that was lost in the last couple of weeks.
We didn't realize at the time that the vet would let us keep his body if we put him to sleep, and we didn't want him to be thrown out as "biological waste", so when it became painfully obvious he wasn't long for the world I talked the vet into prescribing some powerful pain killers. I gave Tyger the injection, and he was in my wife's arms when he died a couple of hours later. We buried him under a big tree in our back yard. It was a selfish thing to do not to have him put to sleep, but somehow I think it was better this way. He wasn't in pain, and he was in the home he'd known for half his life.
a few days after he died my wife and I both woke up in a start. We'd both clearly heard the sound his collar and tags made when he scratched his neck coming from the foot of the bed. Logically I know it was the dog, on the porch, scratching behind her ears, and my imagination filling in the rest, but there's still part of me that believes...
He was a loving cat, and to this day (it's been almost 6 months, he was about 16 or 17) I can't look at a Ginger cat without wishing he was still here. We've gotten two adorable kittens since then, and that helped some, but still...
There's some pictures of him here.
