(Click on image for large size.)To every time there is a season.
A time to rejoice a time to mourn.
It was a sad day yesterday
I was out running errands with mom when Tim called me and said that he had some bad news.
A time to rejoice a time to mourn.
It was a sad day yesterday
I was out running errands with mom when Tim called me and said that he had some bad news.
Little Levi was killed by a speeding vehicle directly in front of his house.
Here he is dreaming of the mice and birds he will catch later on that same night.
Levi came to us as a drop-off. Someone had abandoned him in what they perceived to be the country. He came to my door very friendly, declawed, house broken and neutered. I took him in offered him a place to call home and made him a friend.
Not long before this, another drop-off had made her way to my door. She was black and white like Puddy, (my good girl who had been rescued as a kitten from the streets of Chelsea in 1989 and made the move with me when I left Manhattan and moved out west to Utah. She died in 2007 after 19 years of loyal friendship. I guess you could say I am a sucker for a kitty with a sad tale or tail or a tale to tell, whatever), but I digress.
Anyway, this new pussy reminded me of Puddy so I took her in and named her Puddy II, later to be known simply as Little Mama. She is a small cat and has one damaged ear, it is a little smaller than her other ear and a little mishapened. She hasn't yet told me why. Not long after she moved in she confessed that she was pregnant. I told her we would work something out. She had her wee ones, four of them. Three all black and one black and white like herself. She gave up the three black ones for adoption. The little black and white boy, Scooter, remained. I thought it a good idea for Little Mama to have a companion. Puddy had been a spinster for 19 years and I think she at times was lonely for feline companionship (despite what a good friend I tried to be to her).
Anyway...back to Levi. Shortly after Scooter was born along came Levi. I later realized that he had the same name as my grandfather, in who's house we were now living. Coincidence? Who knows.
Levi was a good boy but his personality dictated that he be the main attraction. He wasn't interested in being a step-daddy to Little Mama's son. As things turned out, mom's cat Jeffrey had died due to complications of his diabetes. I asked her if she wanted to adopt Levi. She said, well, I've got all this cat food and litter that needs to be used. Not a resounding 'Yes', but an invitation and opportunity for Levi to become the King of some castle, and that he did. He worked his way into mom's heart before too long.
He brought home the spoils of his hunting expeditions on a regular basis. He would call incessantly until you would come see what a good provider he was. He wouldn't eat the mouse or bird that he had on display until you had attested to what a fine job he had done and praised his hunting abilities. He usually spent the night hunting and would get up on the window seal and howl until he awakened you and you came and inspected his prize, once, twice even three times during the night.
He would spend most of the day inside sleeping, but he was usually outside to greet me when I got home from work at one or two in the morning. He would come back inside for something to eat and then he would meow to let you know it was time for you to open the door so that he could go outside and begin his hunt. Even when he hadn't caught anything he would come in at least once more time to eat and drink something then go back out to continue hunting. It could become a little annoying, however...
Not long before this, another drop-off had made her way to my door. She was black and white like Puddy, (my good girl who had been rescued as a kitten from the streets of Chelsea in 1989 and made the move with me when I left Manhattan and moved out west to Utah. She died in 2007 after 19 years of loyal friendship. I guess you could say I am a sucker for a kitty with a sad tale or tail or a tale to tell, whatever), but I digress.
Anyway, this new pussy reminded me of Puddy so I took her in and named her Puddy II, later to be known simply as Little Mama. She is a small cat and has one damaged ear, it is a little smaller than her other ear and a little mishapened. She hasn't yet told me why. Not long after she moved in she confessed that she was pregnant. I told her we would work something out. She had her wee ones, four of them. Three all black and one black and white like herself. She gave up the three black ones for adoption. The little black and white boy, Scooter, remained. I thought it a good idea for Little Mama to have a companion. Puddy had been a spinster for 19 years and I think she at times was lonely for feline companionship (despite what a good friend I tried to be to her).
Anyway...back to Levi. Shortly after Scooter was born along came Levi. I later realized that he had the same name as my grandfather, in who's house we were now living. Coincidence? Who knows.
Levi was a good boy but his personality dictated that he be the main attraction. He wasn't interested in being a step-daddy to Little Mama's son. As things turned out, mom's cat Jeffrey had died due to complications of his diabetes. I asked her if she wanted to adopt Levi. She said, well, I've got all this cat food and litter that needs to be used. Not a resounding 'Yes', but an invitation and opportunity for Levi to become the King of some castle, and that he did. He worked his way into mom's heart before too long.
He brought home the spoils of his hunting expeditions on a regular basis. He would call incessantly until you would come see what a good provider he was. He wouldn't eat the mouse or bird that he had on display until you had attested to what a fine job he had done and praised his hunting abilities. He usually spent the night hunting and would get up on the window seal and howl until he awakened you and you came and inspected his prize, once, twice even three times during the night.
He would spend most of the day inside sleeping, but he was usually outside to greet me when I got home from work at one or two in the morning. He would come back inside for something to eat and then he would meow to let you know it was time for you to open the door so that he could go outside and begin his hunt. Even when he hadn't caught anything he would come in at least once more time to eat and drink something then go back out to continue hunting. It could become a little annoying, however...
We will miss him dearly.
He was a good boy and a great hunter.
Always generous with his trophies.
May flights of angels wing you to your rest.
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