I've been reading everyone else's stories hear so although I can hardly see for the tears - thanks for that, guys! - I want to share Kitt's.
He was 5 when he adopted me after his first mum died and he ended up in a rescue because he didn't like other cats so her daughter couldn't keep him. To be fair, Kitt was always convinced he was a people so he saw no good reason why he should have to live with cats! Everyone seemed to want kittens so being an older black boy he'd been there a while when we met and not eating well so he was skinny and scrawny with a dull coat but his personality just shone through those big green eyes and there was no way we weren't going home together.
Being a novice, I believed it when I was told that cats wouldn't overeat (I know!!!) so in no time he was glossy and ruling the roost with, admittedly, a bit of a jelly belly! Dieting did not go down well, especially since his favourite trick was to show off his footballing skills with his treat ball to anyone who would watch .... just hated being the centre of attention, our Kitt ... not!
Kitt was 14 when he was diagnosed with a tumour on his spleen. It wasn't operable and the vet's only gave him a few months but they were very supportive and trusted me to know when the time was right to say goodbye. We were as pleased as we were surprised to have another good year together and when the time came we were left to hold him for as long as we needed while he slipped away.
Kitt's ashes are below his favourite plant which he nibbled every morning - not sure it did either of them much good! His legacies are with me now since this can never again be a cat free household - Max, 10 months, in my lap and Willow nearly 2 on my feet. I swear they speak to their uncle Kitt's photo and he gives them plenty of tips on how to get up to mischief - he's getting his own back on me for that diet!
