Saturday, July 30, 2011
My handsome Leo, when Mom brought you home from the shelter, you were but a scrap of fluff, all sweet and tiny. For months you wouldn't eat your breakfast without "pepper" on it, until one day you decided that you didn't need the mineral supplement anymore and refused to eat the breakfast that had it. Oh she had grand plans for you… to have you ride around in the basket on her scooter, snuggle in the bed with her & Mr. Moro. That first week or so, you went along with it, even riding over to her eldest grandson's birthday party on a lovely may Saturday, before you'd even been named. For the record, another grandson, who was 8 at the time declared that we should name you Tigger, like his orange tabby at home. You, sir, however, had other plans. It was your plan to live up to the Leonides name you ended up with.
You became the mighty hunter, bringing through the cat flap all manner of creatures, lizards, snakes, birds, mice, rats, and even a big ole horned toad once. You came into a house with 2 senior cats and one about a year old, and you made your place. You may have been the baby, but you were not content to be babied, you left that position for Mr. Moro. For all your hunting, you were not a fan of strangers, especially men. Whenever someone new came to the house, you hid until one of us could coax you out. You were just not a people cat, or a lap cat. Once Mom was gone, and Mr. Moro, you became a little more snuggly, and once we moved out of that house, and you became strictly a housecat, you suddenly decided that you were a lap cat, and had to be in my face ALL THE DAMNED TIME. Years later, when I spent hours talking and crying with Rhonda about helping her across the rainbow bridge, your sister Bow went merrily about the house, ignoring us, but you stayed close by, as if you were listening to the conversation. As I slept, I suspect that Rhonda gave you specific instructions, because when I returned home from her final trip to the vet, you were the first one there to have snuggle time, and you stayed right in her spot beside me on the bed every night for weeks. When we moved to Weatherford, you didn't like living with a houseful of people, but you eventually adjusted, even welcoming (well, grudgingly at first, but eventually accepting) Mollie and Trinity into our little family. You continued to hunt, whenever possible, by escaping from our room and finding whatever mouse was active and driving you crazy. Your Auntie Erin commented once on the mouse problem, considering that we had a houseful, literally, of cats. I just looked at her and said "well, don't but 2 of them think they are supposed to do anything except look adorable, and they pretty much stay in my bedroom… where there is NOT a mouse problem. You were a good cat, and I am comforted in knowing that you had a good life, a happy life. I know that there were many cats there to greet you this morning as you crossed that bridge. I know you're happy, healthy, and able to hunt and play like you once did. Love, Mamma