Bandit
Bandit
Until 1964, at age 30, I knew nothing about house pets. My dad could expound for hours on the stupidity of city people who had them. My children, too, were denied the experience until their early teens. The onset of my attitude change would come with my 2nd wife. |
Rustie was 28, never married, and came with 'Punch', a lightly tabbyed, blue-grey female in/outer of about 2 years of age. I was possibly resented. Certainly, my lap was never a comfort to her, yet, for thirteen years a mutual fondness developed. During that time, 'Whitey' of Persian dominance, and, 'Bandit' joined our family. |
Whitey, a jet black male of 18 1/2 lbs. in his prime, was exclusively his own person, but always came home, even from several fearless excursions on cars or in trailored boats. He graced our lives for over 17 years. Bandit, a male 'Hemingway' tiger tabby, was purchased as a kitten at a YWCA rummage sale. Both were well entrenched by the time Punch died in the Mid 1970's. |
In 1981, a black, predominantly Siamese of less than 1 year old, was adopted after having been placed in the mail box of a next door neighbor. The petite miss was already de-clawed and thought to have been neutered by our vet. Sam, short for Samantha, proved it was a misdiagnosis . . . the last of her litter being born at 4:00 in the morning between our heads in our bed. That one, Freckles, a dark grey tabby (daddy must of been a traveling man) became number four. |
Bandit suffered a stroke in the fall of 1989, only minutes after we returned from a weekend trip and died the next morning at age 16. I would later realize he had become the lovable pet I never had as a youngster. The next spring, Whitey, at 17 just died of old age next to me on the living room floor in the wee hours of a Monday morning before I could keep the painful appointment to have him put down. |
Bandit suffered a stroke in the fall of 1989, only minutes after we returned from a weekend trip and died the next morning at age 16. I would later realize he had become the lovable pet I never had as a youngster. The next spring, Whitey, at 17 just died of old age next to me on the living room floor in the wee hours of a Monday morning before I could keep the painful appointment to have him put down. |
Squeeky, so named because of a misspelling on his first license application, joined the family as a new born in early 1990. He quickly became principally my cat fulfilling and nurturing an emotional void of both an inner child and a then near 60 adult. I can only say, that my every morning sojourn, that days crossword in hand, to the 'library' was never accomplished without his presence at my feet. We projected his youth would easily overlap the then nine and 10 year Sam and son. We were, sadly, proven wrong on June 30,1996. |
November 7,2008