If you never owned a pet, in general, or a cat, in particular, this is an opportune time to move on to something more productive in your day.
Of course you have countless choices of personal activity: cleaning the bathroom, painting the kitchen ceiling, or mowing the lawn, are but a few brilliant ideas to keep busy devoid of today’s story. Whatever you decide, it hope you will return next week for a subsequent story. Until then, have a nice day.
Since you’re still reading without a toilet brush in your hand, I’m going to dive right in. Those quitters don’t know what they’re missing.
Fifteen years ago, a tiny gray ball of fur appeared in the lives of my sainted wife and me. Turns out this fist-size globe of energy was a malnourished feral kitten.
He seemed delighted to bounce and roll in the autumn leaf-covered lawn – occasionally snatching up an errant magnolia leaf in his mouth. Stumbling as he approached me, as if to bring me a toy, this demon-in-disguise had the energy I had, only fifty-years ago.
Attempting to keep up with his antics, I quickly found myself becoming more enthused about entertaining this itty bitty kitty than going about my duties of winterizing the property.
Curious about the lack of running machinery noise to include riding mower, leaf blower, and weed wacker, my sainted wife appeared, as if by magic, to investigate the unnatural silence of pretty much any kind of work in which I was supposed to be involved.
“What is THAT?” she cried in surprise. And when I use the word “surprise,” it’s not in a good way. For example, asking about her new gift of jewelry that appears to consist of several one-caret real diamonds, would be a good surprise.
Her not being able to identify an overactive baby kitten does not necessarily fall into that category, though.
I
proceeded to explain the sexual gestation of felines, soon to be
interrupted due to her next question about from whence it came, when
she interrupted again. She began mumbling something incoherent about
not having yet another pet, as well as a garbled statement regarding
a divorce, when this endearing creature meandered over to her and
promptly sat on her shoe.
Smokey
Looking skyward into this giant’s blood-red eyes, this fur-covered orphan appeared to be heading into a new home.
Not only a new home, but a loving, caring doting home.
The
following Monday, Smokey the Cat – his new moniker – made the
trip to a local veterinarian to see if he had an identification chip;
he didn’t. We all departed the vet after Smokey received his
required vaccinations, a thorough examination, plus a brand-new
hatred for veterinarians.
It would appear as though his sore vaccination-filled butt was waning, in as much as he seemed to enjoy riding in a two-seater pickup truck. For your information, cats, unlike dogs, hate riding anywhere likely because each time a cat gets into a vehicle, the destination is the vet’s office.
Yet, he peered out the side window, taking in the sights until our return home. That was 5,475 days ago, and most of those days were jam-packed with adventures.
Many of those adventures have been subjects of stories on this blogsite since his arrival, in addition to the occasional gratuitous mention just for effect.
Throughout those years we discovered Smokey’s breed was that of a Korat, a pure breed of feline from Thailand. And, as with most every pet owner, their animal buddies are: the smartest, prettiest, quickest, funnest, tallest, shortest, bravest, fattest, or simply the bestest. Smokey was no different.
Still, none of that really matters because our pets are our best friends. Loyal, honest, caring, protective, and unconditionally loving. Our best friends.
They never came home with a bad report card, or were expelled from obedience school, complained about dinner, phoned for bail money, or became upset because they were safely indoors on those cold or thunder-filled rainy nights. They appreciated whatever they had.
Cheesy felt toys, balls of yarn, a crumpled piece of note paper, or an errant spider, often provided entertainment for our pets and their humans, alike, during idle times. Simple times.
Alas, Smokey left us for his trip across the Rainbow Bridge, “a place just this side of Heaven,” where pets go following their lives here on Earth. The poem entitled “Rainbow Bridge” is a touching tribute that simply, yet concisely, explains where Smokey and other pets reside awaiting to meet up with us, again.
And so, Smokey and his years of adventures will continue to live on through this blogsite for the foreseeable future. Godspeed, Smokey. Thanks for the memories.
And thank you for reading. Now go clean your bathroom.
