Sweet boy

As some of you know, we've got a number of cats that have decided we're the best outdoor dining in town. This summer there were four litters, and, for the most part, they are too standoffish to even trap/neuter/release, but one, Salt & Pepper, called Pepper, decided humans are cool. By July he was headbutting our hands as we put food in the bowls, by August he was letting use stroke him and skritch under his chin, and by September we could pick him up. Last week Rowan scheduled an appointment for either him or Frenchie (the formerly domestic black and white male who arrived in September), whichever one we could get into the carrier, to go to the Dr. to get shots so we could bring him in, and then we'd get the second. I wasn't sure we were keeping them, but they needed to not spend the winter outside.

We got home from Massachusettes on Sunday, and didn't see either of our boys. We still haven't seen Frenchie. But yesterday, when I got home from work, Pepper was in the yard. He started to leave, but then I called him, and he trotted over to the car to see me and get petted. I went inside, and then put more food on the porch. He was very hungry, but let me pet him and purred mightily. That was a first--coming to greet me. The last heart-string got plucked. I didn't think I could foster him now--he was ours.

Later that night Duchezz took the pugs out, and Jiro trapped Pepper in the back yard. Usually he runs away, but he was just laying in the grass, hissing at Jiro. She got the dog away, and Pepper got up, and limped up to the back porch where we've set up some crates with shielding and blankets, and crawled inside his preferred crate. She came in worried, and asked if I'd keep an eye open.

This morning she told me Pepper hadn't come to breakfast, and he didn't appear to be in the crate. Well, we thought, he actually likes the front porch better, so maybe he felt safer there.

This afternoon when I came home from work, Pepper was on the back porch. He was sleeping, laying on his side, his head was resting on some of the blanket that had come out of the crate. But he didn't raise his head when he heard the car.

My heart in my mouth, I thought "There's a chance he's sleeping." I called his name, and he still didn't stir. I bent down, looked at the beautiful sheen on his perfect fur, still the softest, densest I've ever touched. Under the fur his body was stiff and cool.

Our sweet boy came home to say goodbye. God, I'm going to miss him.