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A little over ten years ago, my ex wife talked me into adopting a cat from a local shelter. I walked in and saw this underweight cat that was suffering from an upper respiratory virus so bad he could only breathe through his mouth in gasps of air. I tried to talk her into adopting one of the other cats because I didn't expect this one to make it. Everyone at the shelter had taken up a collection to pay his adoption fee because “This one is special. We have to save him.” I kind of rolled my eyes and caved in. We adopted this cat, took him straight to the vet(who reiterated that his odds weren't great) and then took him home. I spent the next few weeks waking up every couple of hours to hold him above the humidifier trying to open his nasal passages. I shoveled antibiotics into him and took him into the bathroom and turn hot water on in attempt to help him breath. During this time I bonded with this animal in a way that I would not have thought possible.
Though clearly a runt, he was more than capable of taking down the bigger cats once he became healthy. Once when trying to trim his claws, the clippers broke causing my ex to proclaim “this cat has unbreakable mutant claws!” The people at the shelter had called him Bobby due to his scruffy sideburns and the tips that came off of his ears, but I thought Logan seemed like a more appropriate name.
The more time I spent with him the more I understood why he was “special.” I saw him rescue mice from the other cats then release them outside. I saw him lay on a lizard that my other cats were chasing until they gave up. He then got up and let the lizard go free. He once led me to a baby bird that had fallen out of a tree and refused to stop pestering me until I got it back into the nest. He would stand guard over kittens while they ate, preventing bigger cats from interrupting their feeding. He would bring lost kittens home with him so that we could return them to their homes. I loved all of my cats, but this was different. This seemed to very much be a truly sentient being.
People would come to my house that said they didn't like cats. Dog people, they called themselves. Some just didn't care for animals. They often left offering me money for Logan. “I have never seen a cat like that,” was heard many times in my house.
My ex suffered from bi polar and borderline personality disorder. There were times that relationship was very difficult, but Logan was always there for me. He would come running up to the car to greet me when I got home from work. At my lowest points he would come to sit with me. During my eventual divorce he was always there to comfort me. When my father passed he wrapped his paws around my neck and purred a high pitch song like purr into my ear. He became a therapy animal to me. He was an anxiety medication that calmed me in a way nothing else could. He became the best friend I could have ever asked for.
This morning, I had to say goodbye to my friend. He had pancreatic issues that lead to kidney failure. I knew he was not doing well and spent last night worrying that I would have to make a very difficult decision this morning. Again, he took care of me and alleviated me of that responsibility. I may have saved him when he was a kitten, but he saved me time and time again. It is a debt that I will never be able to repay. All I know right now is that I miss my friend and need him more than ever.
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Though clearly a runt, he was more than capable of taking down the bigger cats once he became healthy. Once when trying to trim his claws, the clippers broke causing my ex to proclaim “this cat has unbreakable mutant claws!” The people at the shelter had called him Bobby due to his scruffy sideburns and the tips that came off of his ears, but I thought Logan seemed like a more appropriate name.
The more time I spent with him the more I understood why he was “special.” I saw him rescue mice from the other cats then release them outside. I saw him lay on a lizard that my other cats were chasing until they gave up. He then got up and let the lizard go free. He once led me to a baby bird that had fallen out of a tree and refused to stop pestering me until I got it back into the nest. He would stand guard over kittens while they ate, preventing bigger cats from interrupting their feeding. He would bring lost kittens home with him so that we could return them to their homes. I loved all of my cats, but this was different. This seemed to very much be a truly sentient being.
People would come to my house that said they didn't like cats. Dog people, they called themselves. Some just didn't care for animals. They often left offering me money for Logan. “I have never seen a cat like that,” was heard many times in my house.
My ex suffered from bi polar and borderline personality disorder. There were times that relationship was very difficult, but Logan was always there for me. He would come running up to the car to greet me when I got home from work. At my lowest points he would come to sit with me. During my eventual divorce he was always there to comfort me. When my father passed he wrapped his paws around my neck and purred a high pitch song like purr into my ear. He became a therapy animal to me. He was an anxiety medication that calmed me in a way nothing else could. He became the best friend I could have ever asked for.
This morning, I had to say goodbye to my friend. He had pancreatic issues that lead to kidney failure. I knew he was not doing well and spent last night worrying that I would have to make a very difficult decision this morning. Again, he took care of me and alleviated me of that responsibility. I may have saved him when he was a kitten, but he saved me time and time again. It is a debt that I will never be able to repay. All I know right now is that I miss my friend and need him more than ever.
215226_1019327978168_723806_n.jpg
WHEREVER YOU ARE IS WHERE YOU ARE AT
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