When I had my web site before, I had a section of it devoted to my cat, Petey. He had his own Intro page and Gallery. I thought I'd introduce him here tonight. His is the image you see as my photo in the About Me section.
I have plans on redoing his part of the site and emphasizing the cat rescue aspect. I fostered Pete for my
local SPCA and ended up adopting him. He must not have been more than 4 weeks old when I got him. But I'll let him tell his story when the site goes live again.
He is 5 going on 6 years old now. It blows my mind that I've had him that long. It never seems like I have had him more than a year two when I think about it. And of course, I still see him as my little baby kitty. When I look at him, I often see that tiny fuzzball that first came home with me. Sometimes I see him in later stages of kitten-hood. I don't know if he'll ever graduate to adulthood in my mind. I'm wondering if parents feel that way about their kids.
He is somewhat high-strung, at times a bit aggressive (he still has all his manhood about him), and very dependent on me. I'll never forget when I went to visit my family a few years back for two weeks. My Mom was really sick, and I had only seen her one other time since I moved to CA in '89. Thus the reason for a two week visit.
To make life easier for my friends who were going to look after him (I live in the East Bay and they live in San Francisco), I took Pete to an empty apartment in a building that one of them owns and resides in. Pete was in utter and total shock at leaving his home. He did not move. He did not eat. He did not emerge from his hiding place. I was receiving daily reports of this over the phone. I was so afraid for him, and I was frantic with worry. They finally brought him back home and just traveled the Bay Bridge daily to take care of him. I did feel better about that, but still, I just felt sick inside.
When I got home, I called for him. He did not come out. I figured he would be in what I call 'deep hiding', and his deepest hiding place was behind the stove. I went into the kitchen and said his name. And out he came, with a look on his face that I will not ever forget. He looked at me as if he thought I had died or gone away forever, with a wide-eyed expression that said "Is it really you? Oh my God, where have you been?".
He always was a rather slender cat. He had lost 2-3 pounds while I was gone. I wanted to cry when I saw him, but I was just so happy to be with him again. We both knew it was going to be okay again.
Not too long after that, my Mother succumbed to cancer. I flew down to spend a couple of days hoping to be with her at the end. She passed while I was over Utah. I spent the next couple of days with my sister, both us in states of pain and bewilderment.
Sometime after I got back home, I broke down and wept. As I was sitting there with my face buried in my hands, I felt something on my arm. It was Pete- he had jumped up next to me and put his front paw on my arm. I looked up at him, and again, I was floored by the expression on his face. A look so compassionate, so sweet. And it was as if he'd put his paw on my arm to try and comfort me. He did not move from my side while I was crying.
Okay, so I guess I am somewhat high-strung, at times a bit aggressive, and have grown very dependent on Pete. But it's a perfect companionship that came into being all because I thought to pick up the phone one day and offer myself as a fosterer. I would not trade that cat for love nor money. And that is no exaggeration.
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