Author: Preston Ross

Rags entered my life on July 4, 2009 while I was at work. I was sitting in my Office and I noticed something small and fuzzy pass by my window. I saw her clearly enough to see that it was a kitten and not some other animal.

I went to go check and when I found her, I saw that she was indeed a small kitten. I guess her to be about four or five weeks old and saw that her fur was dirty, matted, terribly thin, and there were no other kittens in the area. I also noticed that while she was able to walk normally and that when she tried to run, she didn’t scamper or run like any other kitten of a similar age.

I picked her up she didn’t struggle or put up any resistance, but seem resolved to accept whatever fate awaited her. I carried her back into the office and located a large box and lined it with a towel and found a small bowl for water. I played with her as much as I was able to and found that she wanted and desired contact. I scratch her chin and cheek and was rewarded with a very strong purr.

When I got off work I took her to a 24-hour emergency Veterinarian Clinic. The Veterinarian, after examining her informed me that Rags was suffering with multiple problems orthopedic problems; abnormal pelvis and knee issues. The Veterinarian’s recommendation was to go ahead and euthanize her. Despite the recommendation, I felt that this kitten that so enjoyed human companionship and was perfectly normal, in every other respect, deserved a chance to live. I paid the bill and took her home and made a home for her in a cat carrier.

When I got her home, I decided that she needed a bath. Rags didn’t struggle or fight the water, but seemed to actually enjoy it. As I said earlier, Rags was filthy and it took several applications of Dawn until the water didn’t automatically turn dark. She also enjoyed the towel rubdown and blow dry afterwards and fell asleep during the “Spa treatment”. I discovered a constant fact about Rags, she would never been one of those sleek cats with never a hair out of place. As best, even after a lengthy session with a slicker comb, Rags was destined to be in a constant “bad hair day”. After segregating her that night, from my other older cats, I began supervised visitation and other than the initial curiosity of this new addition and her odd “rabbit style” running gate, there were no unfortunate encounters. In fact, the older cats seemed to know that there was something special about Rags and never played roughly with her.

Rags seemed to know what her limitations were and soon learned to jump up onto my fireplace hearth and onto the couch. She later learned to jump up onto the bed, but never tried (as far as I know) to jump any higher. Rags never hid, she could always be found in one of three locations, my couch, my bed, or on one specific breakfast room chair. Even though she couldn’t run and chase it, she enjoyed swatting at the little red dot from a laser pointer with her front feet. Rags never got to be a big cat; at most she weighed about 6-1/2 to 7 pounds, she was a petite little lady.

September 4, 2014 started out as any day, Rags ate breakfast and then got up into her favorite chair to sleep. About noon, I found her dragging herself, by her front legs, across the living room. She was also meowing a lot which was very unusual for her. I picked her up and checked her and she meowed very loudly, and while she was able to move her front legs, he hind legs just dangled there. I touched her lower legs, and didn’t feel anything wrong, until I got to the pads of her feet. They were cold to the touch. I wrapped Rags in a towel and placed her in a Cat Carrier and took her to the Veterinarian.

When we got there, Rags was very much in pain and had to be sedated so that she could be examined. The Veterinarian checked but was unable to detect a pulse in either of her femoral arteries. Due to the sedative not having fully kicked in, Rags continued to struggle to walk. The Veterinarian suggested that Rags be place in one of “suites” to allow her to become more relaxed. I left and returned to the Veterinarian’s Office about 45 minutes later. While I was gone, I found a shade tree, had a good cry, though about the journey that Rags and I’ve shared, and composed myself. Shortly after 2 PM today, my little Rags was euthanized, and crossed over the Rainbow Bridge.

Rags, you will be missed, but I know that upon
crossing of the bridge, that you will know no more suffer the pain from the affliction you were born with, for you will be made whole. I also know that you’ll be seeing and playing with your fur-brother Munch who preceded you last year. I don’t know how much more time God will allot me on this Earth, but I know that we shall all be reunited again when that time is reached.

Street Cat to Pampered House Cat

Munch and I found each other as I was finishing a Deep Night Shift in October 2000. I had seen him on several other occasions just hanging around. I’d call out to him, he wouldn’t run and each time we “met” he’d inch closer.

I was about to enter the Station when he showed up again and, as usual, I called out to him. This time he walked right up to me and began rubbing and circling around my legs. I reached down and he rose up, on his hind legs, and head butted my hand. Feeling emboldened, I reached to see if I could scratch his head. To my amazement, he allowed me to do so. Munch enjoyed it so much that he was actually leaning into it; so much so that I thought he’d fall over.

I went into the Station, finished my reports, and as leaving the building, I didn’t see him and assumed that he was off taking care of more important business. I called “Here Kitty” several times and again he came out of the bushes and walked right up to me. I reached down and again he stood on his hind legs and head butted my hand. After several minutes of head and ear scratching, I developed enough nerve to attempt to pick him up. Munch didn’t protest and I carried him over to my truck, opened the door and we got in.

Munch was not a lap cat, though he never tired of long session of hand butting and head scratching.

It’s was a wonderful relationship which lasted for 13 years.

Munch, I’ll see you again, sometime in the future.

Gizmo “Gizzy” Ross began his life’s journey on January 10, 1990 and crossed onto the Rainbow Bridge on November 28, 2007; at the age of 17 years and 11 months. He is survived by his father, Preston, and three fur-covered brothers, Scooter, Munch, and Pumkin.

In March of 1990, I stopped at a house that had a free kitten’s sign posted in the front yard. When I first saw Gizmo, he immediately captured my heart. He was this tiny fluffy fur ball, with a beautiful fawn colored coat, seal pointed markings, and crossed Aegean Blue eyes; who tumbled out of the kitten box and immediately climbed up my pant’s leg to get acquainted.

Gizmo was a sweet and loving cat with numerous endearing qualities, which softened the heart of many a dog lover. He’d play fetch with a paper ball, play fish with a feather on a string, and take time to groom visitors (both human and animal) who visited the home. Gizmo hated seeing an un-occupied lap or a supine body and immediately took steps to fill that void. When held and stroked, he rewarded the provider with a deep rumbling purr and long sessions of “biscuit making”.

Gizmo was a very tolerant and loving creature as was shown when a new kitten (Pumkin) had the audacity, at dinner time, to crawl underneath Gizmo’s chin and proceed to eat from Gizmo’s bowl. Gizmo had the heart of a model, with none of the drama, as he was always willing to pose for a photograph. The photos of him posted here were taken the night before his passing.