Bobby is the oldest of our kitties.I think he was born in May 1981. He was found in a paperbag on Pacific Coast Highway. The person who found him, brought him to a vet's office. He was probably about a week old. One of the women that worked for the vet took it upon herself to raise him. The vet wasn't very positive about Bobby's chances of survival.. But she perservered. Once he was old enough adopt out, a friend of mine told me about him. I went to the vet's office from work and fell in love. I took him home.
The show Dallas was popular at the time and another friend suggested the name *Bobby*. And that's what it became.
Bobby, as a kitten, had a huge appetite. I could put down a plate of leftovers and he would start eating. The pile on the plate could be bigger than him. The phrase *dive right in* comes to mind.
When we moved to our current house, we let our kitties have the run of the neighborhood. We kept the screen out of the laundry room window and the cats could come and go as they pleased. Bobby got sick from the fights that he had been getting into. At one time I was worried that we would have to have him put to sleep. Fortunately, he pulled through. But that was the end to his night roaming. Actually, it ended all of the cats' night forays.
Bobby didn't want to quit going outside at night. He was quite determined. He was able to pull at a screen until he had it loose enough to push open. Then out he would go. We took care of that by closing the window. He figured out a way to push at the window ( the windows are double paned and heavy) and slide it open just enough to get to the screen. He already knew how to work the screen, and out he would go once again. So we had to lock the window. This was in the summertime. It was hot at night and we had all of our windows shut and locked because of our little Tuxedo Bob.
We still let the cats own the neighborhood during the day and we got them in at night. One summer afternoon, in '92, a neighbor's Akita dog/pup got out. Bobby was laying in our driveway. The dog attacked Bobby. By the time I got Bobby out of the dog's mouth, the dog owner was there. He put his dog up and took Bobby and me to the vet's office. We left Bobby there. Bobby's back leg had been ripped apart at the knee, like a turkey wishbone, hanging on with fur only.. The vet's called us at 11:30 that night to give us our options. We opted to try to have the leg saved if at all possible. Bobby was in the hospital for nine days. He wouldn't eat for them and they said that I could bring him treats if I wanted. I brought his favorite, boiled chicken breast and avocado pieces. He was so happy to see me, he would have eaten anything I brought to him. He still had his leg.
Once home, he slept for days. Then he slowly started to check things out. I would take him into the backyard and he would explore. His leg made a clicking noise from the pins in it. When I took him in (six weeks after going home) to have the pins removed, I got the bad news. The bone hadn't healed at all. As a matter of fact, it had disintegrated. The leg would have to be taken off. Bobby lost his leg and both hip joints. This made it very hard for him to get around. He couldn't climb like he once had. No more sleeping on the bed. No more sleeping on top of the refrigerator. The up side was, we could open the windows at night.
Now, Bobby pretty much sleeps away the day. He likes to sleep on the couch. He loves to have his head rubbed and ears scratched. Lately, he has wanted to go outside and lay in the sun in the backyard. He goes in cycles of wanting to be in during the day, or wanting to be out. He seems to be happy. I'm glad we still have him. He still has his appetite.
I guess I should add this now, even though its in greater detail elsewhere on this site, but our cats no longer have the ability to roam the neighborhood. They can't leave the yard.
Brian modified our fence in January 94. Pictures and instructions are on the backyard page of this site.
Update, Tuesday, July 20, 1999....Bobby went to the Rainbow Bridge today. On the 26th of last month, he was peeing blood. The vet diagnosed hemorragic cystitis. Bobby was put on antibiotics. The following Saturday, he blocked. It wasn't crystals, it seems that he was having a problem with his urethra. He was in emergency until July 6th, at which point I took him to our regular vet. He was able to come home during the night and I took him back for the day, so that the doctor could watch his urine output. On Thursday, the doctor said that Bobby wasn't urinating properly. He said that surgery wouldn't work because of where the urethra was spasming closed. He kept Bobby until Saturday, the 10th. I brought Bobby home. Bobby didn't do well. It seemed to be one thing after another. He wasn't eating much and he had diarrhea. He was also throwing up. This morning, I got some medicine that would stimulate his appetite. I gave him one pill, but as the afternoon wore on, he got worse. I took him outside in the sun a little after five. I saw how bad he really was. I called the vet to tell them I felt it was his time. I took him down, the vet examined him. Bobby had lost two precious pounds since his initial problem, on the 26th of June. He was down to a little over five pounds now. The vet mentioned how yellow Bobby looked. He agreed. It was Bobby's time.
The vet sedates cats before he euthanises them. Bobby was laying on a soft blanket and I had my arm around next to him. He lay his head on my arm and fell asleep. I said my goodbyes. I left. Bobby's ashes will be here next week.
Rest in peace, sweet prince.