When I was growing up we had one of the coolest cats in the neighborhood. He was a white and tan long hair’d un-fixed male and he was “the” stud on our block. My mother caught him hanging around our house mostly starved one day. His fur was so knotted he could barely walk. She caught this wild cat and clipped him and bathed him.
As an adult when I remember this story I’d look at her aghast. You caught, clipped and washed a WILD cat?! Were you on valium! “I had sturdy gloves,” she replies.
The point being she also fed him and he completely adopted us. We called him Cinnamon and he fit right into the family. Although he never boinked Ezzy more than twice because only twice did she ever throw a calico and combine her coloring with his and you got calico.
Cinnamon was mostly an outside cat who just loved being petted. Especially his belly rubbed. Like a dog he loved it sooo much, he’d lie there and let you rub his belly. And if he was sleeping he’d pretty much let you do whatever to him. To get him to “play” I used to tickle his toes and smack at his paws until he’d crack and eye and try to take a swipe at me. After all, I was just another annoying kitten. But it was fun to test my reflexes on him and he never used his claws.
Cinnamon would disappear for weeks sometimes and then appear, clipped and fat with a little blue bow in his fur and we would harass him for hours while he tried to get the bow off. We often wondered who he “sponged” food from on his rounds. And he fought his territory well. I know I heard it ALL the time!
Twice he came home with big gaping dog bits out of his fur. I mean BIG. So big that my mother who was getting her RN degree contemplated trying to sew him up. You could see the thin layer of skin holding his insides in… the bite was that deep. But she delayed and delayed and he licked and rested and before we knew it he was healing it fine on his own. He did that twice.
He was never fixed, never got shots, never had his claws clipped and never got a bath after that first one. And we would all have looked at you like you were crazy if you suggested we “brush” the cat. Like he’d let you! He also never saw the vet, you know… ’cause of the money thing.
Lord only knows how old he was when we got him back when I was around 6 but when I came home from college one summer I noticed while he lay sleeping in the sun, the flies were swarming around him. Sure enough a trip to the vet showed his kidneys had failed and he was gently put down.
But boy he had a great run as a cat.