When Brian and I lived in our old house, after dinner we went for a walk around the neighborhood. A kitten bounded toward us and curled around our legs as we walked. She followed us for most of the block.
It was love at first sight, and as much as I wanted her, we already had a cat, and Brian told me we would never have another cat again after Tiger. (If you knew Tiger, she was the most beautiful cat. But she was also the most evil cat. Ever.)
Well, when we put our house on the market, my mom took Tiger in to her home temporarily. One evening as I came home from work, it was dark, cold, and rainy, the sweet little kitten ran up as I unlocked the door. She gave the most pitiful mew ever and then she licked my leg.
I melted in a puddle and I ran inside and gave her a piece of chicken before shutting the door.
I told Brian what I did and he told me I just made the biggest mistake ever.
Because the next day, this happened:
The little black cat soon became Boots, or Bootsie if we felt particularly affectionate. Soon, she came into the house in the evenings, and would go back outside in the morning (also, because we didn’t’ have a litter box any more, she needed to leave the house). She was like a little dog, and loved to give tongue kisses and receive tummy rubs:
Well, she was the neighborhood cat, and everyone in the neighborhood fed her, but somehow she ended up at our house the most. I still remember one time when it snowed a couple of feet and when I called to her, she bounded through the snow to come into the house.
As much as Brian claimed that he didn’t want another cat, when Boots came over, they were best buds. I caught him cutting up leftover pieces of his dinner to give to Boots. (Though he will deny it now, it totally happened. More than once.)
When our house finally sold, we took Boots with us to our new home.
We also got Tiger back from my mom, and so for a while we had two cats. After Tiger passed away, we had Boots. She was the perfect cat/dog pet. She preferred going outside to use the bathroom, so we rarely had to change her litter box.
When Bunny was born, she adjusted and was so tolerant of the tail pulling, horse sitting, and hard thumping pats that only a toddler can bring. We went on walks together and she tagged along.
A couple of weeks ago, Boot went out for the night and never came home. We know that she would not have been adopted by another family, so we think she might have gotten sick from hunting a couple of nights before. I have spent the last couple of weeks crying off and on for our crazy cat.
She has left a hole in our hearts. Bunny asks for Boots to play with. When Brian goes downstairs in the morning, he still looks to see if her face is pressed up against the window to come in. I half expect her to slink between my legs as I put away laundry.
Boots was truly a gentle creature (except when she went outside). I don’t want to say we will never have a cat again, but we will never have another cat like Boots.