Our cat died Monday night. He was very old, was on hyperthyroid medication and high blood pressure medication. It was his time.
Scrappy was almost 17 years old. He lived with us in four different houses. He was older than any of my children.
He came to us before he was born. A pregnant stray came to our house. On my way to work I told my wife-to-be “Don’t let her in, she is just looking for a place to have her babies.” I don’t think I really meant it, and wife-to-be must have known it because when I came home, the stray was all cozy in the house.
We let her stay and have her babies. When they were old enough, we gave her and the babies away. All except Scrappy. He was the king of the litter. We didn’t think he would get along with other kitties (at least that’s what we told ourselves).
Scrappy stayed with us through moves of houses, marriage, pregnancies and everything else.
We we told ourselves that we kept him because were obligated, but now that he is gone, I feel that I lost a friend. Peace Scrappy.