A beating heart and an angel’s soul, covered in fur.
~Lexie Saige
To the former family of the orange tabby cat named Bubba, who left him with Sun Cities 4 Paws Rescue:
I don’t know who you are or where you’re living now, but I have a strong hunch that your family often wonders where Bubba is and if he’s doing okay.
He’s more than okay. He’s a loving bundle of furry awesomeness — but you already knew that. You helped him become the cat he is today.
I visited the rescue, desperate to ease my heartache after losing my seventeen-year-old cat to kidney disease. I walked around the adult cat room, looking into the spacious cages along the walls. I probably circled the carpeted cat tree in the middle of the room twenty times before noticing the orange cat asleep in a nook.
“Oh, that’s Bubba,” the shelter attendant told us as she gave the cat a scratch. He leaned into her touch. “He’s so easygoing that he has the full run of the place, but he usually stays right here on these cat trees. This condo actually belongs to him.” She motioned to a nearby four-foot-tall post with perches.
“He comes with a cat tree?” I echoed. Most cats in the room didn’t even come with a name, much less a big, expensive sleeping place.
“Oh, yes. And a green snake.” She pointed to an empty cage. A green cloth snake poked out from a blanket.
My husband Jason picked up Bubba. The lanky orange tabby melted into the nook of his arm and purred.
Our attendant continued with Bubba’s story. His previous family had a job transfer that forced them out-of-state to company housing that didn’t allow cats. They had raised Bubba from a kitten, and the whole family was heartbroken to leave him behind. They wanted to be sure his cat tree and favorite green snake toy stayed with him.
His backstory proved he’d been loved, and I could tell he was well loved at the shelter, too. Every worker who walked by crooned his name and had to pet him. He was the shelter heartthrob, and he basked in the attention.
“How long has he been here?” Jason asked, hoisting Bubba onto his shoulder. The malleable cat gladly took in his new vantage point. I could tell by Jason’s smile that this cat was coming home with us.
“About six months,” she said.
Our jaws dropped. “How has a cat this loving been here that long?” I asked.
“He’s an adult cat, about three years old. That makes him hard to adopt.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “He’s also sleeping in a cat tree most of the time. People don’t see him.”
We had seen him. We had to take him home.
The shelter workers gathered around to say goodbye to Bubba. They were happy he had a new family, but judging by the tears in some eyes, I could see he’d be missed, too.
I expected Bubba to hide as soon as we released him at our house. Instead, he strolled casually from his cage as if he’d always lived there. After a jaunt around the place, he settled in on his old-familiar cat tree, paws hugging his green snake. He handled the change to his new name of Finn with the same graceful aplomb and began answering to it within days.
I’ve known a lot of cats. I have never known any others with Finn’s easygoing confidence. Nothing bothers him. I can vacuum around his cat tree as he sleeps there, and he barely flicks an ear. He blisses out when he curls up in a lap for hours on end, but never sulks if he needs to be moved aside. I was baffled that he didn’t come running when I opened up cat food cans. Soon, I found out that he expected to be carried to his food dish. Even then, he didn’t deem most foods to be worthy of his palate. I undertook a grand effort to find a food he liked, and after forty different kinds (I kept a spreadsheet), I finally found one he enjoyed, though he prefers to lap up the gravy rather than eat the chunks.
If I could talk to you, family who loved him so, I’d like to know what you fed him and what he enjoyed so I could buy it, too!
I would also like to know how much trouble he caused as a kitten because he’s still a force of destruction and mischief as an adult. He tries to get in my grocery bags — with the groceries still inside. He shreds receipts. He sniffs in disdain at most canned cat food, but he wants to eat apple pie and other fresh-baked goods.
Most amazing of all, he jumps onto the wooden railing along our staircase landing, and then proceeds to bend over to attack his own tail through the gap, yowling for attention all the while. He practically gave me a heart attack the first few times he performed the stunt. I began to take pictures and videos — and then stopped when I realized the attention only encouraged him. Now, I try to ignore his balancing act and the panicked racing of my heart.
I’ve also discovered that he loves when I make the bed. He dives onto the mattress as I fluff out blankets and purrs like mad as they settle over him. He’ll stay there for hours, completely covered by thick layers. It’s a wonder he doesn’t suffocate!
Every day, I wonder what mischief our Finn will get into. Every day, I’m blessed by his loving, mellow manner and easy purr.
Though over two years have passed, I imagine that you still think of your Bubba and miss him. His old cat tree was worn to shreds and has since been replaced, but he still jumps onto the platforms to cuddle his careworn snake. We’ll keep that with him forever. We hope that it helps him remember you.
I hope this letter eases the guilt and grief you surely felt when you left Bubba behind. Thank you for nurturing him to be so loving and trusting, and for leaving him with a great shelter where we could find each other.
I would write more, but I think he’s into something he shouldn’t be. He’s yowling, and something is rattling. I better go check on him. You know how that goes….
With gratitude,
Beth Cato and the entire Cato family
— Beth Cato —
Image source : © pixabay.com
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