Thanks for the memories, Willy (photo heavy)

All our cats are rescues.

My husband adopted Neko from a litter of kittens who's mother had died. She's a bit cranky, and one of those "one person" cats. I'm lucky she likes me, too. She's the most talkative cat I've ever been around; she talks all the time-- like a 13 year old!

Boo meandered up to my Dad's old place, a kitten with a broken tail, eating large grasshoppers. She was so cute that my family kept her, and I inherited her a few years later. Given that she was left on the side of the road as a kitten, and that she'd been hurts, I think she might have some brain damage, but she's a cute cat, anyway.

Today, though I want to talk about Willy. He was originally adopted by an ex of a friend, of my husband's. She had him for a little while, and then decided that he wasn't cute any more. I think she's blind as fuck. Then my partner's friend, and old room-mate adopted him. Willy was a shy, skittish cat, with long black and grey hair-- a dark tabby-- with four white feet.

My husband took Willy when his room-mate was moving in with someone who also had cats. Between the three of them, they had five cats, or something-- so my husband kept Willy.

I met Willy over Labor Day weekend, in 2008. I knew he was a stereotypical "scaredy-cat" and so didn't expect to see him at all, that entire weekend. Maybe before I left, I'd get to meet him, I thought. But he had a surprise in store for me: he was waiting outside the bathroom when I was taking a shower, that very first night! It was love at first sight, I admit. He had me wrapped around his little white-sock footed paw from that instant!

When we moved in together, Willy came with. He of course was miserable in the car, they all were. But once we got settled, he made himself at home. Within a year of being with us all, he was sleeping on my pillow, and napping in my lap. He perched on the arm of my desk chair, like an owl, or on the back of my chair, draped like a neck-wrap. He had never cuddled in any one's lap before, so we were pretty excited when he started climbing on me.

He'd lay on my lap with his head on my chest, kneading my legs and purring like an outboard motor! He was so big that he left foot prints on my leg, if I was wearing shorts.

Willy loved Twinkies, cheese and just about anything I was eating at the moment. If he heard the crinkled of plastic he'd coming running from across the house! He ate the cake off the twinkie, never the filling-- weird as that sounds. If I was having a bowl of cereal, he'd perch on the arm of my chair, or clamp to my knees, begging for a bite. When he was begging, his plaintive little "mew" never mewed... he "arf-ed" instead.

I swore he was part dog.

Once we got settled in the house he would go outside and lay in the oleander. He stalked through the desert willow fronds like a master hunter, even though the only thing he actually caught were flies.There's a bird of paradise under my bedroom window, and he loved that bush most of all. When it was in bloom, he'd lay under it and occasionally bat at the pistils, they were, after all, strings!

Ahhh, strings! I couldn't even wear a hoodie or a necklace without him trying to play with it! Anything remotely string-like had his attention, and he would turn into a kitten.

Last night, Willy died. After a long, spoiled, love-filled life, his spark passed back to the Universe.

I will be truthful and say I'm really sad. I love that cat! He was the best cat I ever had the privilege to care for, and he always made me smile.

I was lucky to have such a lovely cat; and it was my honour to spoil him.

Rest in peace, my lovely kitty.
I'll never forget you. Thank you, for being my cat and loving me as hard as I love you.


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