There is always so much fantastic content on this platform, that on some days, I just lose myself in it. Today has been one of those days, and one post stands out to me, as it has inspired me to talk more about one of our cats that is no longer with us...
In this little short, you can see JimmyGinger "helping" Ben wash the car - and yes, by that I mean he stole the bucket! Such a cat thing to do, no?
(Planetauto is an equal opportunities employer - all are welcome, two legged or four legged, lol!)
It's a video that's always made me smile, as he's so cute, even when he's naughty (okay, especially when he's naughty, lol)
Today, I read 
As far back as I can remember, I've loved cats. I even loved cats before I loved cars - naturally, I might add. At the age of four, I managed to have 28 of them, although not for long, meaning my status of bona fide cat lady was confirmed. We had four cats at the time - all female, and all pregnant, and they all littered around the same time. We were awash with kittens, and the mama cats used to let me carry all 24 of them around in a wash basket...Good times....
Suddenly, homes were found for all of them, and our house got back to it's version of normal, but I never forgot those heady days of Catopia.
A few years later we moved to a place that meant we couldn't have pets, so I didn't have a cat companion for the longest time.
Things changed when I was living in Leeds as a student. I worked part time behind a popular student bar, and one day went to a house party that one of my work colleagues was throwing.
My friend and I got there far too early, and in this instance, it was a very good thing. I didn't know this colleague very well, and I was hoping that I could get to know them a bit better at the party. As we were early, her toddler was still up, and was playing in the living room. he was throwing a ball repeatedly against the wall, and it wasn't until the ball chirped, unfolded itself and tried to get away that my friend and I realised with complete horror that the child was throwing a kitten against the wall - repeatedly...
The little fluffball was this guy:
At this point, he was tiny, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, which is why we didn't realise until the chirping that he wasn't a ball. It had already been taken away from it's mum, so we thought it must only be about 13 weeks old, and so small it couldn't defend itself. The worst thing? The toddlers mum - our colleague - was well aware of what her son was doing, and did nothing to stop it. A rescue plan was quickly hatched.
My friend and I were determined that we were not going to let this continue, so we cat-napped him. After a few hours, the toddler was in bed, and other work colleagues had shown up to the party. We waited until a couple of people were ready to leave, stole the kitten and left with them, so it would be hard to pinpoint which one of us had taken the floof. (It turned out that our colleague wasn't even bothered, and never even asked)
My friend offered to take the kitten home - I knew he had a cat already, and it was well looked after. This only lasted for about 10 days though, as said cat was not happy with this new arrangement, and tried to kill the kitten (I didn't know that my friends cat was unneutered - oops!)
So, on the 25th September 1998, this lovely little floofball came home with me. I was told it was a girl kitty, so I named her Jessicat - or Jess for short. Even though I was poorly myself at the time, it became apparent within a couple of hours that all was not well with the floof. My friend had said that kitty had mucky eyes, and that it may need to be treated with drops, but nothing else...boy was he wrong!
As I had picked kitty up on a Friday afternoon, I had to organise an emergency vet appointment for the next morning, as something told me not to leave it until Monday. This turned out to be a lifesaving move, as the kitten was so dehydrated, that Monday would have been too late.
This kitten was actually only about 8 weeks old at this time (as our colleague either didn't know or didn't care that they had been separated from mama cat too soon) and was seriously ill. First off, we were told it was actually a boy kitty, and he had sustained brain damage from being thrown against the wall. The vet explained that he would have seizures at times. He also had a severe eye infection, a severe ear infection, two different types of worms, fleas and a nasty case of diarrhoea and dehydration. I was told that if he hadn't been given subcutaneous injections of saline that day, little floof wouldn't have lasted the weekend, and that due to how damaged his system was, I had to feed him boiled, skinless, boneless breast of chicken or turkey, as kitten food was too much for his digestive system to handle.
After a lot of treatment, and with additional meds in hand, we headed home, with one seriously grumpy kitten. As he was too small for standard flea treatment, the vet had rubbed a solution all over him, and I was told to settle him down in a small area that was completely covered with newspaper. About two hours after we got back, he stood up and started shaking slightly, and a dark rain of dead fleas littered the newspaper, leaving a kitten sized clean spot in the middle. He was rewarded with a small amount of chickeny goodness after that.
At this point, he was still quite wary of his new surroundings, and had gravitated to the far side of the living room. Knowing that he needed to get used the space, I kept my distance unless it was feeding or treatment time. I had to administer eye drops three times a day, and ear drops twice a day, as well as the regular feedings. Another thing I hadn't anticipated was that he didn't know how to wash himself, and had no idea what a litter tray was for. So, the first thing I did on Monday after he had had a check up at the vet's? Taught him how to wash, and gave him a tutorial on the litter box. This lesson was timely too, as the worming treatment the vet had given him had started to work, and the tapeworm was being evicted...euuuwww! (moving swiftly on I think)
This became our routine over the next two weeks, as I was still off work and Uni myself, as I was recovering from a nasty infection. We worked on it, and worked on it, and slowly, he started to get better.
We were best pals by this point, and had completely bonded, so it was Jimmy and I against the world! We even managed to get kicked out of halls, as I smuggled him into my dorm. No way was I leaving him behind, so I broke the no pets rule.
Problem was, he was so damn cute that word spread, and I got busted. I was given a choice - stay and get rid of the cat, or keep the cat and find somewhere else to live. No prizes for guessing my choice, so we were off.
As we wound our way into the new Millennium, this little cat and I stuck together through thick and thin. Moving back to Cardiff when my dad was seriously ill, starting a new career due to intense grief and shock, breakups, illness - you name it, we went through it all.
By 2006, I had found my way back to Leeds, and I was working in one of the main hospitals there. I was also studying again, and was sharing a house with another girl, and her cat, Bella.
It was around this time that I met Ben, and from the very first, those two got on like a house on fire!
Like me, Ben has always loved cats, and when I clashed with my new landlord, he happily had Jimmy move in without hesitation. They bonded over their love of cars and gaming...
(If I sits here quietly, I can help the hoomin clean the car)
(This is my Xbox - you can get your own)
As you can see, this little cat has had lots of adventures, and this only increased when our little Bengal kitten - Cabie Bat - came home to live with us too. It took a little while for the two of them to get used to each other, but once they had, they too got on well...
(When I win this fight, it's my turn to sit on the Galant)
(Love you, brother)
Through thick and thin, Jimmy has been my reading buddy, my work supervisor, and my cuddle buddy - he even helped me when I entered book competitions!
(Your work is so boring, it's making me sleepy)
By 2018, the seizures had started to happen more frequently, and he needed a lot more care and TLC. Ben and I created new, comfy sleeping areas for him, and learned how to care for a geriatric cat, as by now, he was over 19 years old. I think that works out as nearly 95 years old.
(It just makes sense to have a floofy, Shaun the Sheep hot water bottle cover - thanks, hoomin!)
He passed away peacefully in his sleep in February, and I miss him every single day. Considering that on the day after I took him home in 1998, I was told he was very nearly dead, it's been such a privilege to have had the opportunity to spend nearly twenty years as a family unit.