Fat Cat is our twenty three pound cat. Thatís right folks, twenty three pounds. How he got that way is a mystery, as he does not eat that much, but Iím guessing the fact that his favorite thing to do in the world is sleep might have something to do with it. He is a beautiful cat, white with Holstein Cow markings on his back and a black cap with a black tail. He is just very large.
Fat Cat originally belonged to the neighbors up the street. He must not have liked it there because he spent a lot of time in our garage with my aunt, who is 81 years old and has onset dementia, and me. One can usually finds us out in the garage with the door open drinking coffee and having idle conversations, especially in the mornings.
We didnít know it at the time, but his name was really Sally. Iím not sure why he was given that particular name, but I started calling him Fat Cat the first time he ever moseyed into our life. It just seemed to fit, if you get my drift.
Not long after Fat Cat began his daily visits, I, against my better judgment, started feeding him tuna. He just looked hungry to me, donít ask me how, given his weight. From that day forward he lived in our garage and over the period of the next six months slowly gained access to the interior of the house and he has never left.
Now before you think we are catnappers, left me explain. It seems the previous owners, who are very nice people and friendly neighbors, had acquired a new dog and Fat Cat did not like him in the least, so he went outside and never stepped foot in that house again. He became an outdoors cat and apparently found a harbor in our garage. He would stay outside at night, but every morning he would howl outside the window for us to open the garage door. By that time I had bought a huge sack of cat food and he knew breakfast would be waiting for him. His previous family has visiting privileges., but he refuses to live there.
Iím not really sure how Fat Cat became the ruler of our house. My aunt was adamant about not having a cat or any other animal in her home . She did not want cat hairs all over the place, and the last thing she wanted was something to take care of. The cat had other plans. He would run into the house every time the door opened and hide under the bed, and my aunt would get the broom and chase him outside. Apparently this did not hurt Fat Catís feelings in the least. He was determined to live inside. He tried a new tactic. Whenever my aunt would come into the garage he would run to her and rub up against her legs, then lie at her feet. If she got to walk, he would follow her around, constantly rubbing her legs. He slowly started getting to her and he knew it. She started petting him and the next thing I knew he was a house cat once again, only this time he lived in our house.
At first he wasnít allowed on the furniture or the beds. Now he sleeps any where he darn well pleases. You see, my elderly aunt got sick with some kind of stomach flu and stayed in bed for several days. Fat Car just popped up on her bed that first day and seldom left her side. Every time she would move or moan he would raise his head up and look to see if she was all right. That did the trick. Fat Cat now sleeps with my aunt every night, just as close as he can get. When she gets up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, he is with her every step of the way. Now Fat Cat can do no wrong. He sleeps on the couch, love seat, chairs, and under the dining room table. He has special treats for cats, toys, and the love of an old lady who not too long ago could not stand the thought of cat hair.
Now Fat Cat spends his days leisurely. He sleeps most of the time, that is when he is not lying in the drive way taunting the mocking birds who love to dive bomb him. He is not a hunter though. Iíve seen birds prance into the garage while he was sleeping, only to have him raise one eye and close it again when he sees itís only a bird. He just likes the game. Frogs scare him to death when they jump. Children annoy him, but he will patiently let them pet him a time or two, then sneak off somewhere to hide.
I wrote this story about this wonderful cat because Iím convinced he was God sent. He amuses us daily with his antics, and has made an old lady with dementia much more alert, not to mention happy. Before he came into ours lives, the days got pretty sad at times. Now we have an old tomcat purring and making us smile. His sweet nature demands our love and his every wish is our command. I think he knew from the very start how very much we needed him, because he has become a Guardian Angel to us both.
Absolutely love this. I can 'hear' the love you have and feel for 'Fat cat'. I have a rescue cat and she is extra precious, because of what I imagine her to have experienced previously. I want her to have a happy life. Actually, it's a bit like Fat cat's! :-)
What a lovely article. Laughed out loud at Fat Cat's original name being Sally (given that he is a he). Pets really are God-given. They minister to our hearts in so many ways - just as Fat Cat has done with your aunt and family.