|cognitivedissonance - 2017-09-14 |
I had a cat who had her babies in the oven.
We had a long extended family of cats, about five generations, with the matriarch at my grandma's house, she refused to get it neutered, so we always had these cats, and they were the friendliest, cuddliest, most loyal pets ever, except they were DUMB. Just mind bogglingly stupid. They would have litters in dangerous places, frequently just ignore them in favor of cuddle time, and we would have to just deal with these cats. Eventually they settled out into borderline feral cats in the blackberry bushes or stupid, inbred housecats that would walk in front of cars with no regard for their own safety.
One cat, named Lucky, was MY cat. She was allergic to fleas, she lived in a state of perpetual paranoid neurosis, she had her tail permanently bent into a question mark shape after she survived being hit by a car, and she was just completely in love with me with no regard for anything else. She pretty much lived attached to me for fifteen years. When she died, she visited me one last time before she went off to die, as cats do. I think of that cat like I do a human family member. I remember ALL of my cats, and my current cat is pretty great, but Lucky was a soul companion.
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