I Rescued a Cat
Many years ago, in a house far far away, we had 2 dogs, and 2 cats.
One of the cats was all black, and we called her Midnight (original huh?). The other was called Emily (after the doll in The Little Princess).
Every morning, I would go outside and check on the garden out back, to see if anything yummy was ready to pick. One morning I noticed a white cat our by the trees' edge. It was watching me.
The next day, it was sitting there again, still watching me. For a week and a half, it watched me. It never came near me, never ran away.
One day I made a big deal about putting some food in a bowl outside. He watched me, but didn't come near it. When I went back outside a while later though, the bowl was empty. I started filling it up every morning when I went outside.
Soon the cat was waiting at the door for me, but he never let me touch him.
Weeks passed, he began letting me pet him, scratch him on the head, or he would roll over and let me scratch his belly.
The cat was completely white, not a dark hair on him. We names him Daylight (again, creative, yes?).
Weeks passed, and he finally let me pick him up. I took him in the house, where he sniffed all around, and after about 20 minutes, used the litter box and hopped on the bed to sleep. He was right at home.
Then he started getting sick. The vet said he had been sick for a long time before we even got him, and that it was dangerous for him to be around our other cats. Instead of abandoning him, we just isolated him. He didn't mind, because he was still in my room, with his food and his own litterbox.
Thanksgiving came around. We drove out to my aunts house to have dinner with them. My parents left several hours before I did. When I got home, my mom was sitting on the couch looking miserable. She started crying, and told me that when they got home, he was in his last minutes, and that she tried to comfort him, but he kept trying to go get in my bed. She wouldn't let him, because she knew I wouldn't be able to ever sleep in the bed again. I was so distraught. I cried for days, and I still mourn a little every Thanksgiving. The vet said there was nothing that could have been done, that we did all we could by giving him a home and love for the short time he was with us.
We gave him a proper burial out back, under the grove of trees where I first saw him.
One of the cats was all black, and we called her Midnight (original huh?). The other was called Emily (after the doll in The Little Princess).
Every morning, I would go outside and check on the garden out back, to see if anything yummy was ready to pick. One morning I noticed a white cat our by the trees' edge. It was watching me.
The next day, it was sitting there again, still watching me. For a week and a half, it watched me. It never came near me, never ran away.
One day I made a big deal about putting some food in a bowl outside. He watched me, but didn't come near it. When I went back outside a while later though, the bowl was empty. I started filling it up every morning when I went outside.
Soon the cat was waiting at the door for me, but he never let me touch him.
Weeks passed, he began letting me pet him, scratch him on the head, or he would roll over and let me scratch his belly.
The cat was completely white, not a dark hair on him. We names him Daylight (again, creative, yes?).
Weeks passed, and he finally let me pick him up. I took him in the house, where he sniffed all around, and after about 20 minutes, used the litter box and hopped on the bed to sleep. He was right at home.
Then he started getting sick. The vet said he had been sick for a long time before we even got him, and that it was dangerous for him to be around our other cats. Instead of abandoning him, we just isolated him. He didn't mind, because he was still in my room, with his food and his own litterbox.
Thanksgiving came around. We drove out to my aunts house to have dinner with them. My parents left several hours before I did. When I got home, my mom was sitting on the couch looking miserable. She started crying, and told me that when they got home, he was in his last minutes, and that she tried to comfort him, but he kept trying to go get in my bed. She wouldn't let him, because she knew I wouldn't be able to ever sleep in the bed again. I was so distraught. I cried for days, and I still mourn a little every Thanksgiving. The vet said there was nothing that could have been done, that we did all we could by giving him a home and love for the short time he was with us.
We gave him a proper burial out back, under the grove of trees where I first saw him.
By:
eyes
Age:
31-35
,
Female
