We have cats. Three, to be specific.
Gigi is our rescue cat. We rescued her and her brother and sister as kittens and had to bottle feed them for weeks. You would think she might appreciate the fact that I saved her life, but nah, she hates me. She loves the Mad Girl.
Otis is a stray I picked up off the road by my sister's house. He has a great, feisty personality. He also weighs about 20-something pounds and regularly tortures Sis because she is easy prey. I ran him over with our van several years ago. He disappeared for days before coming back. His pelvis was broke in 3 places and the vet said it would cost $2,000 for the surgery. We didn't do the surgery, but took him home to heal. And that he did.
Hootie was 13 years old. He was my sister's cat. She gave him to me when she moved here so he would be able to roam in our back woods. He was a vagabond. He had lived in Michigan, Colorado and Texas. He was all white with big green eyes and a pink nose. He drooled when you would scratch him. It was kinda gross, but he was so sweet that you couldn't help but love him.
Hootie had to be put to sleep today. He was apparently going into liver failure and the vet told me he was going to die sooner rather than later. I hate having to put an animal to sleep. I always have such guilt. Today I didn't though. Hootie lived a good, long, happy life. They gave him a sedative to relax him and I scratched him until he was nearly asleep. I also cried buckets. I didn't stay to watch them put him down. I didn't want to remember him that way.
The house seems a little less homey tonight without him sprawled on the back of the couch. I think I'm gonna miss that cat.