Alias Eedly-Deedly, alias Deedle, alias Poot, alias Tootle-Pootle.
He was my second rescue — he was almost too young to adopt when the daughter of one of the shelter ladies handed him to me while I was standing in the checkout line at Petsmart buying cat food. (Do I have “cat momma” written on my forehead?) That little white tip on his tail clenched the deal. A pouncer and bouncer who took delight in annoying his siblings. He never ceased to be amazed that I could tell who he was without having to smell his butt. He loved to rub his face all over you. He never met a stranger. He thought he always wanted to be an only cat. Once he was one, I don’t think he liked it as much as he thought he would, but we adjusted to it. He followed me from room to room. Where ever I was, that’s where he wanted to be. He slept by my head. There was a kind of symmetry to his time with me. His departure was as unexpected and sudden as his arrival. He crossed the Rainbow Bridge to join the four who went before at 11: 23 a.m.
This is the first time in 21 years I’ve been without a cat.