Shiftkitty
Registered User
My husband raised a cat from being the rejected runt of the littler into a mass of muscular tabby named "Tiny". Tiny was an indoor/outdoor cat who was supposed to have died from feline AIDS (or whatever they call it) when he was two. He came through, so I guess the vet was wrong. Over his years he learned several tricks, like identifying several whistles for different things, such as simple "Come here" to "Chow time". He had very peculiar habits and could obey simple verbal commands and acted very human in many regards. He'd follow my husband around like a puppy and would walk through the house meowing for him if he had been gone too long. He would even "say grace" over his food dish as he would dip his head and close his eyes for a few moments before eating.
Tiny had his ninth and final kidney failure at about 25 or 26 years of age. He was phenomenally old, and it broke my husband's heart to put him down. In the end, though, Tiny knew it was time. He was cremated and sits on the TV now, where he can see the yard and the sunlight. This was back in 2003.
At the start of this last autumn, a skinny black kitten began taking shelter on our porch. He was spooky for the first, I'd say, 30 seconds, before he caught on that we weren't out to hurt him. Putting down heaping bowls of food didn't hurt, either. He quickly got used to us and we were able to take him in very soon. We thought he was a stray, but the vet we took him to for a check up (and "clipping", sorry, Mr. Kitty!) confirmed that he was a feral. He had never been owned, and she was surprised at how calm he was around us.
When we took him home again, he glommed onto my husband like nobody's business. There was instant snuggling and purring and, to our genuine surprise, he seemed to know all of Tiny's old tricks! He knows the old whistles, he follows my husband around like Tiny used to, knows the commands, and while he doesn't "say grace", he pauses at the food dish and looks at us for a moment before eating. He's very vocal when Will isn't around and I do find myself wondering; "Did Tiny come home?"
Tiny had his ninth and final kidney failure at about 25 or 26 years of age. He was phenomenally old, and it broke my husband's heart to put him down. In the end, though, Tiny knew it was time. He was cremated and sits on the TV now, where he can see the yard and the sunlight. This was back in 2003.
At the start of this last autumn, a skinny black kitten began taking shelter on our porch. He was spooky for the first, I'd say, 30 seconds, before he caught on that we weren't out to hurt him. Putting down heaping bowls of food didn't hurt, either. He quickly got used to us and we were able to take him in very soon. We thought he was a stray, but the vet we took him to for a check up (and "clipping", sorry, Mr. Kitty!) confirmed that he was a feral. He had never been owned, and she was surprised at how calm he was around us.
When we took him home again, he glommed onto my husband like nobody's business. There was instant snuggling and purring and, to our genuine surprise, he seemed to know all of Tiny's old tricks! He knows the old whistles, he follows my husband around like Tiny used to, knows the commands, and while he doesn't "say grace", he pauses at the food dish and looks at us for a moment before eating. He's very vocal when Will isn't around and I do find myself wondering; "Did Tiny come home?"
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