Our Fur Babies

08-28-2025

Childhood pets shaped my love for animals.

Growing up, my wife’s family mostly had dogs. My sisters had a dog named Brownie before I was born. Later, I got Spot. We kept him in a fenced area, which eventually became home to my treehouse fort, aka John’s Camp.
It was a single room with a shingled roof, windows that opened on three sides, and a small porch. But that’s another story.

Cats adopted us when dogs were gone.

After the dogs passed, cats appeared through a mutual adoption agreement. We fed them, they owned us. Miss Kitty and Snowball were aloof but affectionate. They ruled the yard with quiet authority.

Marriage brought pet restrictions.

After college, I got married, and my wife and I first lived in an apartment complex surrounded by pine trees, where pets were not allowed. Squirrels were our only visitors, and they chewed everything in sight. Later, we moved into a townhouse, and soon, cats again found our doorstep. Tiger curled up by a potted tree at our front door, and Mr. B appeared first at the front door, pawing the glass, and then at the back door. He was persistently giving us a look, letting us know he had misplaced his key.

Shelter from the storm.

My wife, feeling sorry for Mr. B, bought a small doghouse with blankets. One night, he refused to enter. A flashlight revealed the reason. A rather large possum had taken over. So, Mr. B got a warm spot indoors and, after that, had no interest in leaving the comforts of his new home inside.

From zero to three cats.

After Tiger and Mr. B passed, we took a break. Then the woman who ran the county-run animal shelter called. Midnight and Smokey needed homes, and so did their mother, Snickers. We first adopted the two kittens and a few days later got the mom because she was on the list to be euthanized. The mom was pissed off that she did not go with her kids on the first trip, but she eventually forgave us. Soon, they ruled our home, complete with not one, two, but three cat trees as well as cardboard scratching boxes, and every cat toy imaginable. Even with all their toys, our leather chairs and sofa became claw art.

Travel meant trusted sitters.

We hired excellent pet sitters, often visiting two or three times daily. My wife constantly fussed over their well-being. She was the first to grab the carrier for vet visits and never hesitated to nurse them when sick.

Saying goodbye to dear friends.

Over time, our cats aged and slowly got sick. Midnight was our last and my snuggle buddy, and losing him was hard. After his passing, my wife and I decided to pause. The animals had given us joy, love, and countless stories. And so, we closed this chapter with our fur babies.

 

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