Connie-

I know you don't know me - I've been around practically since the place came into existence, but I mostly lurk. I was following Tigger's story for awhile, then got too busy to go anywhere but where I needed to, and have just come back. I am so, so sorry for your loss, and at the same time happy for you that you have a new four-footed soul in your life!

I adopted my two guys from the local animal shelter. They are littermates, nine years old. First I adopted one - actually he adopted ME. I sat in the cat room and waited to see who would come along. One chubby brown male tabby lay across my feet and begged for a tummy rub, and then another and another. Finally he sat under my chair with a "see who I adopted" expression on his face, and I agreed. His brother, another brown tabby with white feet, chin and tummy, was hiding and purported to be "very shy." At the time I felt all I could handle was one, so I took the first one, now named "House" (yes, after that House) home with me.

He was happy to be here, rolled all over me that first night (I didn't get a lick of sleep!) and was friendly to all visitors. However, he refused to eat. He cried like he was hungry but simply wouldn't eat. I had to rush him to the ER to get him re-hydrated, then a second time back to the shelter for more IV's. I knew, somehow, he was pining after his brother, so I asked the vet about him. Apparently "Socks" (as they called him) was in isolation due to an upper respiratory infection, but was coming along well. He was still extremely shy and supposedly unfriendly. I told her I didn't care, and that when he was well to call me.

After ten days total of not eating and barely drinking, House finally began nibbling at a little food, just before the vet called to tell me Socks was ready to come home. As I told her when I went to get him, with his being so shy and a senior citizen, he would never have gotten adopted and would have spent the rest of his life in the shelter. She agreed completely and was happy that I adopted him. I brought him home, named him "Wilson" (yes, after that Wilson) and let him hide. My son (the one in the picture with the graduation stuff on him) crawled under the recliner to pet Wilson, and told me that "he's very friendly and purring like crazy."

After less than twenty-four hours he came out and has never looked back. He is my over-sized lap cat, insisting on crawling onto the lap I don't have while I'm on the computer. He is even more affectionate than his brother. He likes to sit on my lap, reach up, and pat my cheek with his paw, or rub against my neck, or lick my fingers. (pauses to let Wilson climb on board) (Okay, he's gone now). He's extremely friendly and a real lover.

He also wags his tail. Seriously - when he's relaxed, happy and purring. It's like having a Labrador Retriever in your lap. One time both were sitting on the back of the sofa, with House behind Wilson. I looked over to see that House had a paw resting firmly on Wilson's tail. I think he'd had enough of getting thunked in the face. I tell Wilson that he is only half-mad.

::waits for it::

(Cheshire Cat - remember?)

With both of my sons grown and gone, one married, the other in college, these little guys have filled a hole I thought never could be filled. :wub:

House

Wilson

I am sorry to ramble on so much about my two little boys, but reading your stories and those of others here just made me feel you would understand.

Blessings and Hugs to you!

Brynna

With your arms around the future, and your back up against the past
You're already falling
It's calling you on to face the music.

The Moody Blues

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