One Fine Feline

Come on in and watch the shadows right there. See that really active one, the one that is chasing all the small ones, while the big mean looking one watches? That's one of my old kitties. That's BD. He was let go today, let go to move on because he was in so much pain and no longer loved to dance. And now. Look at him. He's dancing again.

See this cat lived twenty years. Twenty! That's one of the oldest I've ever had a cat. Well he was my mom's cat. But that was probably twenty years more than he should have had, were it not for my mom.

She found him under her car after visiting a friend. He was way too small to be away from his mother, and was mewling. LOUDLY. This cat had one of the loudest YAWOWS out there, and his purr box was extra big. Anyways, he was malnourished, his ears were infested with mites, and he was dehydrated. We had a cat already but my mom just couldn't leave him. So she brought him home and said 'We're going to nurse him back to health and then take him to the pound.' You see how well that went hmm?

Anyways, his name is really weird right? BD. It stands for two things: 1) Brain Dead, and 2) Buster Douglas. He was so weak but so playful, he would jump around and bash into things, and then add to this the incredible damage the mites did to his inner ears (They were so thick, all you had to do was lightly scratch inside his ear and you'd come away with a near ounce of mite crud) that he constantly looked like the kitty equivalent of the Keystone Kops. Kittystoned Kop. Heh. And of course, he was tough. Our other cat, my cat, Natasha, was one of the meanest cats to ever grace this planet. She intimidated German Sheppards, she was that bad ass. But BD, he always wanted to play, so he'd jump Tash, and get beaten to a pulp, bounce back up and be right back on her. And at the time, Buster Douglas, some tune up fight for Mike Tyson, came out, got beat up, and beat Tyson for the title. And that was our new kitty. Tough and too stupid to know he should have died.

And that's what made him neat. He would escape the house when he was younger, and go feral for two weeks. Then come back because he loved people. He was a super mouser, and ate his kills. Trust me, nuthin' grosser than cleaning up dead mouse pukies. Gah. And he was incredibly strong. And while he was entirely black, it was actually patterned black and looked like tiger stripes, and he was built like one, thick chest, slightly in turned front paws, fast, killer with his claws against all things that needed to be killed, which did not include humans. With people, he just loved to meet'em. And beautiful? Sleek fur and about the greenest eyes I've ever seen on a cat.

Anyways, today, my parents took him to the vet. He'd started to get dementia, he would take ten minutes just to lie down, and he wasn't always making it to the kitty litter. And he was always in pain, and about a week ago, he stopped playing at all with their dog, Princess Kneesa.

So he's gone now, kinda. Like I said, watch that shadow that doesn't stop moving. That's BD, that's him, chasing down everything he possibly can. If you stay still, he'll even come cuddle for a bit. Love ya BD.