One day in 1992 my Dad walked out his front door and found a small, orange kitty. Poor little guy was covered in dirt and his tail, OMG, someone had mutilated his little orange tail. Off to the vet they went, to see Dr. Raatz (yes, rats). The Vet had to remove the little guys tail. He told my Dad that the kitty might not develop correctly, he might not have the ability to control his bowel movements. Seems the spine/tail all have to do with their ability to go to the bathroom properly. But the little guy came home.
Dad named him Bob, as in Bob Cat. I think deep down, Dad was naming him a bit for my brother Robin who passed away 3 years prior. Bob had a new home. The most wonderful home ever. With Herman and Helen.
He grew up nicely but was full of energy. It was a little hard for my older parents to deal with all that energy. Mom and Dad had an elderly chihuahua at the time and Bob didn't understand or get it that you are not supposed to pounce on the little doggie. But everyone got along quite nicely.
When I would come up to visit Mom and Dad over the years at Christmas, Bob would always be there..waiting. I thought he hated me...he would attack my feet when I arrived. Little did I know...he wanted to play. When I would sit on the floor he would sit in front of me, waiting...just waiting for me to push him away and play rough. He loved it. But I thought he hated me.
Fast forward to 2003. Mom and Dad had moved into a nursing home/Alzheimer's facility and Bob moved with them. They allowed pets and it might be good for Mom and Dad to have Bob there with them.
I went up to retrieve their dog, Wraggs. While up there I had to have my ancient kitty Misty put to sleep (Dr. Raatz again). When we got back to my brother's house, he made us lunch and sat down and said 'you need to take Bob'. I wasn't sure. I mean he was with Mom and Dad. But we talked to the manager of the facility and she told us that it might be a good idea. Mom was hitting at Bob and one of the other residents was muttering 'kill the cat, kill the cat'. So, I ended up with Bob too. I was technically without a cat for about an hour. I wasn't sure how Bob would adjust to me or now he would handle a 2 day drive in the car. I mean, I thought Bob hated me...how would he deal with me?
Surprisingly it went well. The drive was great, Bob was great and Wraggs was awesome. I got them to my house here in Florida and let them out. The patio was a hit. Within days Bob discovered lizards and was quite prolific at the hunt. He loved it here, warm weather, good food, lots of love from me. We had almost 6 years together here. I lost Bob last year. It has been almost 9 months now. I still miss his yodeling in the middle of the night, even though I yelled at him. I miss him laying on top of me purring up a storm in the middle of the night. I miss him coming to me to ask me to wipe his mess butt (he had issues). Shoot, I miss him.
Every pet I've ever had has been special. Bob was special because he was part of Mom and Dad. He was my Dad's cat, although Mom took possession of him too. He was just special.