BUD - THE OLD-TIMER
This is Bud, he is your typical Morris cat, we acquired him from my Uncle and Aunt. They moved and couldn't take him with them. No one is sure of his age, he came to live with them when he was quite young and had fallen pray to abusive juveniles. They apparently shoved his head and front paws into a boot, then proceeded to cut his testicles off. This is the point that my Uncle and Aunt found him. Wounded and bleeding they took him to the local vet at which point he received the care he needed. I guess because of his trauma he had encountered when he was so young, everyone felt sorry for him and at times would over look his bad habits. And now he has had them for so long, there isn't anything that would change them. But, being the bleeding heart person that I am, I couldn't see sending him to the 'glue factory', so he has become a part of our family. His nasty habits consist of two, both I have learned to overcome, one with a litter shovel constantly within my reach. I can't tell if he is so old he doesn't know what he is doing, or if he really doesn't care. But he never covers up his droppings and the smell is over whelming at times. I guess I should feel fortunate that he uses the litter box. But, to walk into the kitchen and get a whiff of his remains, can at times knock you down. Thus, with shovel handy, I scoop them up and put them into a plastic bag and take it to the trash can outside. Normally I clean the litter box once every day, but because he enjoys his groceries more than the normal cat, he uses the litter box quite often throughout the day, forcing me to make numerous trips to the alley.
Which brings me to Nasty Habit number two. For being as old as he is, he has a remarkable smeller. He can smell food anywhere within the house and his inner stomach antenna zooms straight to it. Case in point, not realizing this when he first came to live with us, I made the mistake of leaving out some hamburger to thaw. Hamburger still in package, on a plate sitting on the counter top. When I came home to cook said hamburger, nothing remained except Styrofoam and plastic. He was a contented ball of fur curled up on the bed, purring lightly and probably dreaming of meatballs. Well, I decided I would outsmart him the next time, which came not to far off. This time I needed to thaw a 5 pound roast out over night. Placing said roast into a plastic bucket closed tightly with a snapping lid, I set in in the top shelf of my kitchen cabinet and closed cabinet door. This time I went to bed, contented, curled up snuggly, snoring lightly and dreamed of wonderful tender roast.
The next morning I walked into the kitchen and found, cabinet door hanging open, plastic bucket on the floor laying on it's side with snapping lid off and my beautiful thawed out roast laying in the middle of the floor. On closer inspection I found that he had gnawed on one corner, consuming at least a pound of meat before satisfying his gregarious appetite. I learned my lesson well, now I put all thawing meats into the oven. If he can open that door, then I plan on putting him in a circus sideshow.
UPDATE: We lost Bud to old age on July 20, 1998. He knew he was going and we knew he was going and there wasn't anything we could do, (he lingered for three days). As he slowly slipped away, we would rub on him and talk to him, and even though he was too weak to lift his head, he would twitch his tail, his way of telling us he was happy where he was. His last few months with us was his happiest yet. He loved to play around the pond, more like laying on the rocks and sunning himself. He never bothered the fish, just enjoyed lapping the water at the edge and stretching out on the rocks for an afternoon nap. We will miss OLD BUD, he was truly a very good cat.