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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
First of all I have to say, Paws was never really my cat. I fed him, I housed him, I loved him. But he was never my cat. Paws only had 2 people he gave the best of himself too, I was neither. He lived in my house for over 12 years. He kept his own hours, and liked to have his own space. Here is his story. Some of you may already know this story having lived parts of it yourself, some of you are to young to understand why things were the way they were. All of you reading this have loved and most likely lost a companion.

Some of his story begins with my other cat Sherbert, but its where I will start since both are linked.

It was many years ago, before the internet, before pictures were digital, cats were cats and pets were disposable.

We lived out in the country, on a dead end road. A perfect place for these disposable animals to end up when they were no longer able to work, or grew out of their cute stage. A place for the ones who became an inconvenience for same reason. Unfortunately for most the way to deal with strays and ferals was to trap or shoot them. It was also the time before TNR was an option.

I was sitting outside one evening just about dark when yet another car went by, ever notice they are to ashamed to dump an animal in the daytime? It was March there was still snow on the ground. After watching the car speed away, I decided to take a walk as see what was left behind. When I got to the end of the road, there was a very confused looking, very pregnant cat. I spoke to her and she followed me home, she had no where else to go but the woods.

I named her Cricket, no reason, the name just fit. I had hopes of rehoming her as soon as her kittens were weaned. A few weeks later she had the kittens. Cricket was an great mother and nursed these kittens as long as she could possible do so, She also set up to teach them to hunt. Turns out she was an heavy mouser. As I set up homes for 2 of the kittens, she started showing signs of being pregnant again, she had not even weined the others yet. 4 months later the first set of kittens had been homed, I kept the third. That was Sherbert. He was born on April 6, 1993.

On Friday, August 18, 1993 Paws was born. I had been out for the day, I had to make a 3 hour trip that day, 6 hours total. When I got home it was raining. hearing Cricket call to me I went looking, and found her under an old sink from the remodel we were in the middle of. She was wet, muddy and looked miserable. She was straddling a hole scooped in the ground. In the whole was a bunch of kittens and a rising puddle of water. Also in the puddle was a birthing sack that had not broke open, Tearing it open I found 2 kittens. Twins. scooping up the others, I found them a new home in a old claw tub lined with blankets in the storage.

Paws was one of those twins. He beat the odds, his brother passed away sometime in the next year after being rehomed. All the others were rehomed as well as Cricket. Their stories part here.

Paws became the loving companion of my sister in Law. She was 13 at the time being a later child. He slept with her, followed her around and lived to be with her, He watched for he school bus daily, he tolerated the rest of us.

From the first the odds were stacked against him. His hearing was bad, and unless something was directly in front of him he couldn't see it. He had little to no coordination. It all added up to him acting completely schizophrenic. He also had issues eating and keeping food down.

Eventually My sister in law went to college. By this time Me and my So had moved and started a family. Paws came to live with us Temporarily......

He never stopped watching for her to come home.

About a year or so after moving in with us, right about his 6th birthday, he started losing weight, throwing up and generally looking very bad. We took him in had him looked over, had blood work done, everything. The Vet gave him 6 months to live. He never gained alot of weight back, but with careful monitoring of his diet I kept him from throwing up too much and he seemed happy enough. But still he never warmed up to anyone more then asking for a cursery pet occasionally.

9 years later, when my daughter turned 12 he must have saw my Sister in law in her. Because all of a sudden he attached to her, slept with her, followed her around and demanded her pick him up and hold or cuddle him before school each morning. He also began watching for the afternoon bus. He was happy again.


He was never my cat. He lived with me, He occasionally graced me with his presence and slept in the room somewhere nearby. Once in a rare moment he would sleep in my lap while I worked. He could be loving at odd moments, just to turn and bite the hand that was petting him. I fed him, I cared for him, occasionally I was thanked with a lick or a cuddle. And yes I miss him. I was the one with him when he passed, I had spent 3 days giving him water from a dropper before deciding His life had be really lived and it was time to let go. I was there when he decided it too. He was 17 years old.

He crossed the bridge in November 2010. The Vet had given him 6 months, He had lived an extra 11 years.
 

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RIP Paws...you were a fighter in life and able to live life on your own terms.

Maybe Paws was never your cat in legal terms or whatever, but it sounds like in your heart, he was very dear. You cared for him when he was down and out each time. I am sure he saw that, and just had trouble expressing it due to his own health issues....sorta like an autistic child. He knew he was loved and lived a long happy life despite everything being stacked against him :patback
 

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Discussion Starter · #5 ·
Thanks everyone. I guess I did ramble a bit there.

And if they ever could diagnose a cat as Autistic, I think it would have been Paws.

His full name was actually Paws Mewler. when he was a tiny kitten learning about solid foods, he would stand with all 4 paws in the food bowl making all these happy little mewling noises as he ate, which is where his name came from.
 
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