Weird problem

I use a strange launcher called KISS.
(Yes, it really does mean Keep It Simple Stupid)

It allows me to hide whatever I don't want to see in both my app drawer and in my recent history list, separately.

And what a pretty kitty.
Looks very much like my fuzzy buddy that past three years ago (at 17½ years old).

MoodyBlues said:

That's so sweet. I love 'sleeping' pictures of my pets--and I'll bet you do, too.

What was his/her name? And what caused their death?

The cat in my pic is Joy Noelle--my favorite [of four], who's been mentioned and posted a lot around here, like last year when she was sick.

I've taken thousands of photos of her, starting the very first night; she was ≈5 weeks old, and weighed 24oz:

View attachment 147911

She turned 15 in October.

Do you have other pets? If so, please tell me about them--and post pics! If not, I'm sure you're aware that having pets is beneficial to our health, emotions, outlook, etc., to say nothing of saving a life...so have you thought about adopting?

Click to expand...

Is there a place for this, or can we just do it here?
I guess since this is your thread we are not hijacking it, so I guess it would be alright.

He died from liver failure.
Even though he was miserable and feeling so bad, on his last day with us my sister and I stayed with him all day and he acted pretty normal- wanting to be with us and coming to us when we called to him.

His name was Benjamen.
He weighed 16lbs. at his best and was a ferel kitten when I found him.

He was wounded on the back of his head, and it was infected.

The cat I had grown up with had died a few years ago, and I did not want another, due to the loss. He was Nikki, and he was 18 when he passed of kidney failure.
I got Nikki when I was 6.
He was so sweet. But because he was a Persian he was not allowed to go outdoors. This causes problems in multiple ways.

Anyway, I just wanted to help this kitten that I found at a nature preserve outside of my hometown.

I put him into my car, and gave him a small hamburger from Burger King that I had. He ate everything but the pickle.
He curled up and slept on the floorboard of the front passenger side.
Now, this is a very loud, old car, and here is this poor thing not scared at all, passed totally out, just glad to be in from the outdoors and fed anything.

So I take him to my mother's house, where she gave me some Bag Balm for his wound, and some proper food for him.
We stayed the night there.

The next day, he was running across her three acre yard- jumping high into the air catching grasshoppers and eating them.

I had no intention of keeping him.
The Persian I had grown up with was picture perfect, while this little guy looked like someone had spilled white paint onto a grey and black striped cat.
His markings werd not symetrical, his ears were huge, and he was not friendly.

No one will take him, and no one wanted him.

What could I do?
The little guy rode peacefully for more than an hour in my car to get home.

At the time, I was living with my uncle, who was the black sheep of the family.

I smuggled the cat into the house, and kept him hidden inside my room.

He constantly wanted out, and made me miserable about it.

Finally one day my grandmother was over (mother to my uncles and father) and I told her that I had to show her sonething- and revealed the kitten.

So she made arrangements for him to stay. She knew Nikki well, and knew how devastated I was on his passing.

He could stay.

I figured that since I didn't want to get so attached that he could go in and out as he pleased, and that he might live a few years before something happened.

Outdoor cats live around 6-8 years usually.

So, I played pretty rough with him, as he was a pretty mean little guy. I had scatches all over my arms. He would attack anything or anybody.

He did not cuddle, sleep with us, or on our beds.

He would go out and disappear for days on end, and there were sometimes I thought that he had met his demise.

When I would travel back to my hometown, he would go with me in my car, and we stayed together in my car.

He mellowed out a bit, but not too much.

My uncle was a horrible housekeeper, and if I cleaned anything he would filth it right back up.
Benjamen earned his keep by catching every single fly (God, so many big, fat, annoying flys!) in the house and eating them.

He never begged for food.
Instead, he would sit upright with his head cocked- just like the RCA dog in there old record label.

It always worked.
He was so cute, and not a peep. Most animals would be trying to annoy you into giving food by crying, clawing, jumping, drooling, etc., but not Benjamen.
He would actually sit in a chair at the table.
He wouldn't step foot on the table itself, just sit in the chair.
He actually had manners!

Well, eventually my dad came to live in town, and so I went to live there.

He did not want the cat- not at all.

He did, however, make a place for him out in the garage.

He was not to go into the house.

This was fine in the summer, but the winters here can be pretty bad.

One day, it was cold outside.
My little sister, who was about 6 at the time, came home after school and lay down with him in his box in the garage.
She would not come in without him, and late that night, my father relented.

We still had to let him out whenever he wanted, as that was the only time he would make a pest of himself.

He rid the yard of all vermin.
He even attacked and chased the @$$hole neighbor's pit bull out of the yard.

He grew, and grew, finally getting so much better looking and very strong.

My sister would chase him across the yard, and then turn and run from him, and he would chase her right back again- like they were playing tag!

With strength and age, his temper improved.

We moved into the house we are in now, and he and I were the first to spend the night here.
It was the first time I had ever seen him roll onto his back and stick his paws out, like a content housecat.

It is hard to believe that that was in November of 2001.

Over the years, he would walk around the neighborhood with us- completely unrestrained and on his own will.

He would answer you if you talked to him.
He would come to you if you called his name.
He would run down the driveway to greet each of us as we came home.

He did the same for the neighbor, who didn't even like cats. But he liked Benjamen, because Benjamen was so different.

If I was working on something outdoors, Benjamen was right there.

And he did wind up sleeping with us, in our beds.

He usually would sleep the foot, and he would visit each of us during the night.

There are just so many stories!

A large, significant piece of me left with him.

When the time came, even the vet had tears.