Bowser the cat

Bowser the cat came to me from a couple who were getting more and more allergic to cat hair.  Bowser does have a thick, beautiful coat of hair.  He was terrified when he came to me.  The first thing he did was to crawl into the cupboard under the bathroom sink.  Of course I let him stay there as long as he chose.  After a few days he spent most of the time out of the cupboard.  It has taken a while, but he trusts me implicitly these days.

He came to me at 12 years old with declawed front paws.  The people who Bowser lived with before me told me he had "escaped" from the house and was gone for 6 months.  He had been about 18 pounds when he left and came back at 12 pounds.  I don't know how he stayed alive for all that time, or how he found his way home.

Bowser and I lived in a small apartment for several years.  He once got out into the hallway, but was totally frightened by a fierce female cat in the apartment next door.  After that he did not even attempt to go out of my apartment.

But for the past year, we have lived in a house with a large yard and a fenced in patio.  Bowser desperately wanted to go out beyond the fence, and he did escape several times.  Then, more recently, he came home with a bite that turned into and abscess before I even realized he'd been bitten.  The vet bill was more than I wanted to pay, but . . . the Bowser was worth it. The vet said he was a real gentleman, and everyone there liked him.  I'd say he one of the sweetest cats I've known.

Now Bowser still wants to go out of the fenced patio, but I am not willing for him to get hurt again.  For one thing, I would be sad if he hurts, and I don't have money for vet bills either.  Of course Bowser doesn't have any concept of  money.

Perhaps the most important thing is that Bowser and I are bonded to each other.  It took a long time, but he realized that he is safe with me and my Dad.  He trusts me implicitly.  And I love him dearly.  As with most family pets, there will be a time when Bowser dies.  Actually, fairly soon because he is about 16 years old.  For now, I just love him.

Moving Pictures

As I was packing to move, I found a package of pictures my Dad took about 6 or 7 years ago when he came out to visit. There were some fine pictures of nature, a really wonderful one of my Dad, some of his sister Wanda, and one lovely one of Misty.

Each of these were precious. Wanda was close to death at the time, so these last pictures of her are special. The picture of my Dad reveals his soul in a way I had never seen before. And the picture of Misty is cherished because she died some years ago, and I have few pictures of her. She didn't like posing.

All of my animal friends are dear to me, yet Misty was the closest to my heart. She had a Pisces moon quite close to my own, for one thing. For another, she had been hit by a car and her right hind leg was smashed. She hobbled the length of a football field to get to me. Luckily, my housemate was a night owl and went out the door and found her. The vet was able to piece the leg back together, but it wasn't until years later when she was attuned to Reiki that she healed her leg. At the end she was running flat out, something she had not been able to do for most of her life.

Misty did everything flat out. She didn't know the meaning of moderation, except in her diet. She ate only what she needed, and stayed slender her whole life. At the end, she was truly thin because of a hyperthyroid condition. She did love her mice and the raw food diet I discovered in her last years.

Misty died the way she lived - on her own terms. She called in a raccoon, or maybe several. I know that partly because Misty told me and partly because she was so fiercely glad that her body provided food for another creature.

For almost two years after she died I cried every evening. Misty would come and lick my face when she was alive. After she died, she would come and ask why I was crying. She certainly wasn't traumatized by death. It was another grand adventure. She seldom comes to visit anymore. I am occupied and I suspect she is too.

However, Misty, Samantha (the cat who taught me to listen to animals) and Coco (an Aussie/Blue Heeler mix who spent her last years with me) asked to come back to me. It might just be soon!