September 10, 2010

• The Day I Lost My Best Friend…

  Been thinking a lot about Bubba for the last week and it didn’t occur to me until just tonight that it is now exactly five years since he left me.  Strange how your mood, attitude and outlook can change and be affected by something in the back of you mind from five years ago.
  
  The original post as he sat with me for the very last night…
  
  
  

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  Saturday, September 10, 2005
  
  I may disappear for a few days… It’s going to be hard for a while, but I just keep telling myself that it’s for the best, and I know in the end it is. I loved him with every fibre of my being and I know he knows it. I look at him now through tear soaked eyes, for the last night we have, and I know he will live on. He will live on in my writing, he will live on in my heart and he will live on forever, because he has become what everyone wants to become… a legend.
  
  For those of you who don’t know… here it is once again (re-posted from last year)… The Legend of Bubba-Kitten
  

  The Legend of Bubba-Kitten…

  So you don’t know the legend of Bubba-Kitten? Well, sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of the big fat furball that’s sitting on my lap as I type…

  Back in 1997 when I moved back to Sudbury for my second year of University, I had just settled in my apartment and noticed something was missing. At first I thought it was my stupid girlfriend who had gone home already after three days to visit her friends (different girlfriend… not the ‘infamous’ one from past posts), but then it sank in, I was living for the first time without a cat. When I was two I got my cat Tiger, then at 11 we got Whiskey. Tiger died when I was 15, and when I was 18 I got George. George and Whiskey were my cats until I moved away to university. First year I lived with roommates and one of them had a cat named Zoe. So, up until this point, I always had a cat around… so I needed one.

  On the Saturday afternoon I decided to go to the Humane Society and get a cat. Since I was going to be working and at school a lot, I figured an older cat who was already independent would be good. Man did I pick the wrong cat! When I got there I asked the lady to show me the adult cats which were already fixed and had shots and weren’t hyper little kittens. I told her I wanted a cat that wanted affection, but would also be okay on it’s own during the day if I had to work. I told her how I never lived without a cat and she told me she knew the perfect cat for me.

  As she took me into the kennel area, there were about ten cats in cages. She immediately opened up a cage with a huge 16 pound pure black cat with huge green eyes. He wasn’t fat at all… just an extremely large male cat. He immediately jumped into her arms and was the most affectionate cat I had ever seen. I held him and fell in love right away. I of course had the lady show me other cats, basically to get them out of their cages if only for a moment and show them some affection, but this big black cat just stared at me with his big green eyes and I knew he was coming home with me. There was a set of two cats, a brother and sister, who had never been separated before (they were 6 years old), but I didn’t have the money to get two cats, so the decision was made…. Tommy was coming home with me.

  They loaned me a cage to take him home in and we drove across the city in silence as he took in the drive. I think he wanted me to think he was a quiet cat, but I now know better. He hid for the first few hours, but once I fell asleep on the couch, I woke up to him sleeping on my chest with his head nuzzled into my neck. there was no way anyone could ever give up a cat so perfect… then I learned the story.

  A few days later I took the cage back to the Humane Society and the woman who ran the place asked me to step into her office. She told me that the family who owned Tommy wanted him back. I was astounded! I thought once an animal was put up for adoption and someone adopted them, that was it, but this family was fighting to get him back. The woman explained that the family had gone away for a few months and left Tommy with their grandmother. The grandmother wasn’t used to cats and was overwhelmed having to take care of him so she brought him to the Humane Society. Supposedly she thought she was putting him in their care, but she filled out all the adoption forms and such, so I still think it’s a lie. So, the Humane Society wanted me to bring Tommy back and pick out a new cat. Easier said than done. I told the woman I had to go home and think about it.

  I drove home thinking that maybe I should give the cat back, but what type of family goes away for that long and leaves their cat with a crazy woman who puts it up for adoption? I got home and called the one person who could help… my mom. I told her the situation and she said I had to do what I thought was right. She knew I was already bonded with Tommy and that it would be hard to let him go, even though it had only been one week. So, I sat there and looked at Tommy and we had a small discussion about his old family. I told him I had to take him back and that his family missed him. The entire conversation I thought I was going to cry, and at the end when I decided that I would take him back I did begin to cry. This was my cat and I had to give him up. that was when he made his own decision. As I sat there crying, he climbed onto my lap and rubbed against my chest. He sat down on my lap facing me and I asked him if he wanted to go. He just looked at me, meowed once and moved forward and licked my face like a dog. He loved me… he wasn’t going anywhere.

  The Humane Society called the next day asking when Tommy was coming back and I told them I was probably going to keep him. the woman on the other end of the phone was pretty pissed off an was trying to get me to change my mind. Now that I look back on it, she knew she couldn’t do anything about it since I paid and signed the forms to adopt him, but she tried her hardest. She called at least twice a day for about a week telling me the family missed Tommy and their daughter wanted to get him back. I was angry and kept telling the woman that I was keeping him, but she was starting to break me down, so I called at the end of the week and asked the woman what they were going to do for me if I brought Tommy back. She said since I had paid the fees I could pick out any cat I wanted to have for my own. I thought about it and was only willing to give Tommy up if the deal was right. Tommy would go back to a home that supposedly loved him and I would give another cat a loving home, but I figured since I had the upper hand, I would ask for the brother and sister in trade for Tommy. I thought it was a great deal, three cats would get nice homes and the brother and sister would get to stay together, but the woman acted like I had just asked her to murder someone. She told me that there was no 2-for-1 trade… so I told her there was no deal then.

  This woman actually told me to stop being stupid and if I wanted the two cats I would have to pay for the second. So, I did what I had to do… I told her that if she ever called my house again I would contact the police about harassment and have her charged. Since at the time I was still a law student, I knew I had all the legal rights to that cat. She did call one more time asking if I would talk to the family myself and I told her Tommy made his decision and told me he wanted to stay. That was the last I heard from the Humane Society.

  So, I guess you’re wondering where Bubba came from after all that about a cat named Tommy. Well… Bubba is Tommy. You see, much like the Witness Protection Program in the US, Bubba is the sole member of the CFIH… Canadain Felines in Hiding. If someone came to my door looking for a 16 pound black cat named Tommy, they would only see a 21 pound black cat named Bubba.

  The name Bubba actually came from watching Forest Gump one night. Patty (the live-in at the time) and I were trying to watch the movie and Tommy was running in and out of the room like a psycho. The cat just kept running. Every minute or two he would run through the room, then take off again. At one point, just after Bubba (the character) died in the movie, Tommy came in and sat staring at me in front of the TV. I looked at him and said “RUN BUBBA RUN” and he took off like a bat out of hell (damn great album by the way…). We laughed and every time he ran into the room we would burst out laughing and yell ‘RUN BUBBA’ to him. I started calling him bubba as a joke, but the name stuck and he began answering to it more than Tommy. We joked it was his secret name to hide from his old, abusive family, but eventually it became his name and I had a new old cat… Bubba instead of Tommy.

  You can try and call him Tommy now, but he’ll just give you a “Don’t be stupid’ look. His name has expanded some as Nat (yes, the infamous one…) always called him ‘Bubba-Kitten’ and I nicknamed him ‘Pooh’ since that’s what he smelled like a lot of the time. One day he knocked over a huge floor lamp and I yelled at him and called him by his full name, or at least the full name I came up with at the time… Thomas Bubble-ishous The Pooh Thompson… and it stuck. I think Nat is the only other person who knew his full name until now. He has now been with me almost seven years and I can’t imagine life without him. Everyone and everything has come and gone in my life over the past seven years, but Bubba has been the one rock I can count on. He’s ten years old now, but acts like a kitten now that he has his little sister Kokanee (yes, named after the BC beer…) living with him.

  So right now I have three cats… George is almost twelve and lives with my parents, Koko is my sister’s cat, but she lives with us… and there’s the love of my life Bubba. He’s my baby, my best friend and the face I love to wake up to every morning… even if his breath does still smell like ass!

  So, there’s the legend of Bubba-Kitten. I could probably make a living off a series of books based on this cat. He comes from a broken home (three times actually…), he steals socks, fetches like a dog, talks with me and will talk into the phone when prompted, loves to stare directly at blank walls and has some of the funniest dreams ever. Even people who don’t like cats end up loving this guy!

  Should I have given him back? Maybe… but I can’t imagine what my life would be like right now if I didn’t have him.

  

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  The quick update after this happened… I adopted a new cat named Charlee four months later who now lives with my parents in Canada.  George died a week after his 15th birthday making him the oldest Thompson cat to date.  I now live in Taiwan with a one-eyed, one-eared cat named Mouthy and take care of, feed and visit about 30 street cats a few times a week and they have all become part of the family Bubba started…

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