I don't know exactly why I'm writing about him now as it's a little more than 2 years since my first furry friend went to the Rainbow Bridge. Maybe it's cos I dreamt of him the other night and cos I know the people who read this forum can understand my feelings and won't say "It's just a cat"
When I was 6 years old I used to ask for a puppy everyday, but my father didn't like the idea at all. Then the cat of a friend of mine had two kittens and my father thought "Well, maybe if she has a kitten, she will stop asking for a puppy". I was so excited that day: we entered a little room and there was a beautiful calico laying in a corner and looking at two furry little messes, a grey and a ginger tabby.
"Which one do you want?", my friend's mum asked, "The ginger one!", I replied.
He showed his personality since the first moment we put him in the cage for the travel home: he was a tiger cub in the fur of a 2 months old kitten.
Obviously being a kid, my relationship with him was all about playing, but year after year we both grew older, he was a beautiful tiger and I was a teenager.
I can't say he was an easy kind of cat at all: most of the people visiting us didn't like him cos he wanted to know people before accepting cuddles, he wasnt scared of showing his personality, but once his trust was gained he was always there for you.
One day he started being strange: he wasnt playful at all, he started refusing food and drinking a lot. We ran to the vet, and the diagnose was pretty fast: renal insufficiency. I had no idea what it meant exactly, I was only a teenager, and my first reaction was "It's surely just a moment, he will be fine again in few days!", I kinda refused it was possible to tell him goodbye.
Since that day things just got worse: he didn't accept to eat anything, he started losing weight and I understood there wasn't much time left for him. I had just graduated from school and I had to leave in few weeks, but I didn't feel like leaving at all, I wanted to be with him in case something happened. My mother convinced me to leave though and the night before leaving I hugged him tight and asked him to wait a week more. It was probably my worst holiday ever, each time I called my parents my first question was how he was and the day I finally came back home I immediately looked for him. I'll remember that moment forever: it was days he didnt move from my bed, but when I walked in he immediately got up and came to me meowing.
In the next days things got even worse, both the vets and my parents suggested to put him to sleep, but I kept on hoping he could get better, until a day he got up and lied down next to me, looking into my eyes and I understood he was asking me to let him go. I still have tears in my eyes thinking about that day, but I'm aware it was the best for him.
I know he has been the first one teaching me what it means taking care of someone, that you have to gain someone's trust and respect and how much a cat can give you, once you understand their world.
Now I have two other cats and they "just" confirmed what he taught me, but he is still here, he never really left. Last summer I had a really difficult moment, probably the worst one in my life, and once again my cats were there, ready to show their affection in silence.
"Cats leave paw prints on your heart" is now tattoed on my ribs, next to 3 paw prints, one for each cat I have had, and I'm well aware it's all thanks to my first cat, who introduced me to the amazing world of cats.
I miss you, my baby
