He came to us as a kitten of about 6-8 weeks old back in 1995.
Tonight he left this world, but not before enjoying the heck out of all nine of his lives. Since the average lifespan of a cat is 15 years, we were blessed with an extra six years, the way I see it. His name was Spooky, so named because he was black and white. His nicknames included Spookster, Spook-Man, Spooky-Doo, Geriatric Cat, and Blind Kitty, as he lost his eyesight about two years ago.
Six years ago he suffered a stroke that we were certain was going to be the end, but he rebounded and, though he moved just a little slower, he was still playful, loving, and ate like a horse, though he always remained slim. Once he lost his sight, he slowed down a bit more. Funny thing was, he could almost always find his way to the food dishes or to any family member who might be eating something (he could smell food a mile away and wouldn’t hesitate to help himself if we didn’t offer to share!), but he could never find his way to the potty. He trained us, though … when he started walking around in circles, we knew he needed to go, so there would be a mad dash by whoever was closest, to grab him and run to the litter box.
When he was about three years old, my daughter took a job at a local convenience store about 1/2 mile from our home. Since she did not drive at that time, she walked to work. Every day, Spooky would walk with her, sometimes hanging around outside the store, other times pursuing his own interests. But when she got off work at 11:00, Spooky was always right outside the store waiting to walk home with her.
His life was long and happy … all he asked was to be snuggled as often as possible, a warm lap to lie in, and plenty of “people food”. He was a great guy and I’m going to miss my buddy. Rest in Peace, my good buddy. I love you.