Puss

You'll see Puss occasionally in my photos of the boys. When I adopted Gizmo and Simba, Puss was just about 17. She was my first baby; the first cat I raised all by myself. Her "official" name is Puss n' Boots, because she's a gray and tan tortoiseshell with four white feet.

Growing up, we'd always had dogs and cats. I even managed to have a few cats while I was in college. When I moved down to Maryland, away from friends and family, for my first "real" job, I was cat-less. I lived in an apartment complex that didn't allow cats, to add insult to injury. My boyfriend was 500 miles away, I didn't know anyone, and I was very lonely.

I'll never forget the day I opened my door and there sat an adorable gray kitten. I played with her for a while, then went about my business. When I got home, she was still sitting outside my door.

I called my boyfriend. I called my parents. They all reminded me I wasn't allowed to have pets. Of course, I took her in.

I traveled fairly frequently to see my boyfriend (who eventually became my husband), and I'm ashamed to say that I just left Puss with a big bowl of water and food. I was lucky; Puss was always healthy as a horse.

Puss was a quiet, one-person type of cat. She would climb onto my planter in the afternoon, waiting for me in the window when I came home from work. Puss was never too interested in playing with toys, but she loved to lay on me.

I had an added benefit from taking Puss in: my roaches disappeared. I'd never seen a roach until I moved down to Maryland, and they really disgusted me. Spraying proved no match for them, but apparently Puss was. I never actually saw her eat a roach; all I know is that they disappeared after I took her in.

Puss and I lived a quiet life, and were preparing to move to Vermont so I could get married. About a month before I was to move, along came a Momma cat with a litter of kittens.

My fiancee wasn't sure about Puss, but he knew we were a package deal. Love me, love my cat. He sure didn't want two cats. But I couldn't stand it, and I picked the toughest cat of the litter to take in.

I didn't do any of the things you're supposed to do: I just picked Cleo up and plunked her down in the apartment. I'm not sure Puss ever really forgave me, but she did tolerate her.

Our condo in Vermont had bamboo wallpaper. As much as I loved my cats, I really didn't know a lot about taking care of them. I worked outside the home, the cats were indoors cats, and we didn't have any scratchers. I think you can guess what happened next.

I would never, ever declaw a cat again, despite the fact that it didn't really seem to effect Puss or Cleo too much.

Puss was never much interested in people food, although she really shocked me one day when we offered her a piece of birthday cake and she ate it. She never, ever played with toys. She did love to lay on me, and on my husband if I wasn't available.

Puss will lay stretched out on my back, as well as on my lap. She's the only cat who ever would drape herself across my hip if I was laying on my side.

We all lived quietly in Vermont for seven years. Puss, the quiet one, was also surprisingly the one who like to make a break for the outside every now again. She was, luckily, easily caught and never got too far.

Then we moved to Texas — and an apartment. Cleo and Puss came down via a pet moving service, which worked out really well. They adapted to the smaller apartment without too much problem, and then to our house when we moved.

I decided to have bloodwork done on Puss as a baseline at 16, since Cleo had been diagnosed with CRF (chronic renal failure) a couple of months before. Imagine my surprise and dismay to find out that Puss was also in CRF — hers was more advanced than Cleo's, but she wasn't nearly as sick.

Puss stayed pretty good right up until the time Cleo had to be put to sleep. We showed Puss Cleo's body, but she was as uninterested in her in death as she was in life. Five weeks after Cleo was put to sleep, we adopted Gizmo and Simba.

I had hoped that two kittens would be less threatening to Puss, and maybe would even peek her interest. Was I wrong! Puss hid for the first four months. She's come to tolerate the boys, but she doesn't like them. She still hisses at them on almost a daily basis, but she doesn't hide much anymore and most of the time the boys leave her alone.

While Puss has passed her 18th birthday and continues to do pretty good, her CRF does unmistakenly advance. Her days consist of lying on the pillow by my chair in my office, or sometimes on my lap. I do take her out into the kennel we built for the boys, and she really enjoys that until the boys annoy her too much. I kick myself now for not building a kennel for Cleo and Puss when we first moved into this house.

Puss has her own Website (shared with Cleo), Living with a CRF Cat.

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