Goodbye Pebbles, hello Bobbie

My fellow pet-lovers and I all know that no pet is forever, but to lose four in a single year is a little bit more than I care to deal with.  In April my chinchilla died, and during the summer I adopted and lost Arya and Eddard.  Then on the night of November sixth it was my Pebbles's turn.  This is my favorite picture of him, taken when he was eleven months old.  Not too long after this one of his eyes deflated.

It didn't matter much whether Pebbles had one eye or two, because he was blind in both eyes.  It was D-Day of 2012 when my sister and her then-boyfriend came dragging this sorry little bag of fur and filth up to our house.  He was dirty, covered in fleas, his eyes were dripping with infection, his mother was nowhere to be found, and he had no idea what to do with the kibble we placed in front of him.  The vet estimated that he was maybe three to four weeks old at the time.  The kitten's infected eyes resembled small pieces of gravel, and Sister's boyfriend bestowed upon him the horrid name "Pebbles."  Unfortunately, the name stuck.  And so began the summer of 2012!  My sister and I took turns waking up every three hours to feed Pebbles, burp Pebbles, doctor Pebbles's eyes, and make sure Pebbles went potty.  Things his mother would've done had she not abandoned him.  Since he was a baby we had to feed him with a bottle, and since his eyes itched terribly we had to jerry-rig a cone of shame so he wouldn't scratch (he did anyway).  We even dragged the kitten with us on a trip to Jonesboro one afternoon, just to make sure he'd be properly fed (best afternoon ever, by the way).  None of us were sure he'd survive, but survive he did.  After Sister went to Cape Girardeau for summer college classes, the job of caring for him fell solely on me.  Pebbles and I bonded strongly as a result, to the point that he nearly starved himself when I moved out of Mama's house.  I thought he'd be happier in a house he was familiar with, but...no.  I was afraid of how my new house of cats would treat him, but Pebbles settled in surprisingly well.  The girls left him alone and he left them alone...except for Chessie.  This is Chessie, whom I forgot to introduce.

Move over, Skimbleshanks, because there's another railway cat in the world.  LOL, Chessie bears a resemblance to the old Chessie System mascot that I love, hence her name.  She was tossed out of a car just like Eddie and Arya were, in full view of the local dog catcher (what an idiot).  The dog catcher caught the kitten and offered her to me since she knew I missed Eddie and Arya, and now Chessie terrorizes my house.  She loves to play and wants the other cats to play with her, but she usually doesn't have any takers.  Pebbles was no exception, though he was more patient with Chessie than the older girlcats are.  He tolerated his rambunctious young housemate and occasionally played wappy-paws with her, but usually he wanted her to bug off.

Not that Pebbles was very active to begin with.  His eye infection turned out to be caused by a type of herpes that thankfully wasn't contagious to humans (or other cats, apparently, as my surviving cats are all healthy).  The virus didn't kill Pebbles, but it did blind him and make his immune system weak.  All during his eight and a half years of life he tired easily and fought illnesses, randomly losing a ton of weight and acting like he hurt, and then gaining it all back and acting like he was fine.  This cycle would repeat itself once or twice a year, usually around October or November, and sometimes during April.  I took him to the vet multiple times, but the vet kindly told me that these things were going to happen and all I could do was treat the symptoms.  When he fell ill again earlier this week I thought "Okay, he's having another crisis.  I'll up his food and make sure he stays warm, and he'll be fine by the weekend."  But...no.  He crashed suddenly while I was at work on November 6th, and I spent the last few hours keeping him warm and stroking his head.  His last voluntary acts were to bite me (my left birdie finger still aches) and then push his head into my hand for scratches.  I love all my animals, but Pebbles was my very first special needs cat and my very first experience with bottle-feeding.  He taught me a lot and we loved each other a lot, and he'll be very sorely missed.

The good news is that I've adopted a new girl.  Meet Bobbie, the cat with a stub tail!  Pardon my messy carpet; my chinchilla made quite a mess while she was alive.

Bobbie belonged to an elderly friend of mine who is getting to the point where she can't care for her animals.  At one point I voiced a fondness for bob-tailed cats, and my friend said "Oh, I have one with a bobbed tail!"  I'd committed to taking Bobbie in before Pebbles died, but now that he's gone I have a space to fill!  Bobbie won't replace Pebbles in my heart, of course, but she'll nevertheless be loved and fed and kept warm.  Bobbie is already spayed and is only about a year old, meaning that hopefully I'll have many years with her by my side.  She is still pretty skittish, as I would be if I were in her position, but she's warming up.  She loves having her chin scratched, and for some reason she likes my feet.  Haven't figured that one out yet, but she likes to roll around on my feet and chew my toenails. 

That's all for now, rascals!  I should have a few posts up in the weeks to come; viewership was really down in October, so I'm hoping to remedy that.

Hugs and hair balls,
RagingMoon1987