My kitty Thundercloud passed away. She was a rescued feral cat who was more comfortable living outdoors than indoors, but in the cold winter and hot summer she would come inside. She never did get much used to kitty litter, but preferred to sleep in the litter box and pee in the toilet. She used to love to take walks, not on a leash or anything, but whenever she was around when we went for our evening constitutional, she would follow along for the entire walk.
She was usually a very grumpy cat and more likely to swat at you than to rub up against your leg, but I loved her. She and I understood each other. She was a wild one and was way past her allotted nine lives. In fact, about two years ago she was poisoned somehow and almost died. The vet said, “At this point, she’s either going to live or die and it’s up to her.” She did live, but that life or death episode took a lot out her and she was never quite the same old Thundercloud. She was more likely to not take a walk with us, but I still loved her.
Every three to four months she would go missing for a week or two at a time, and every time I thought, “This is it for Thundercloud,” but each time she made her way home…usually after I blanketed the neighborhood with flyers and went around knocking on doors. This time she had been missing for five days, before our neighbors found her curled up under their grill. They thought she was asleep, but she wasn’t. At least she didn’t go off somewhere and leave us wondering. She was only eight years old, but in her rough-living life that was more like sixteen.
I’m going to miss my Thundercloud. You were aptly named and just like a summer thunderstorm–beautiful and brilliant, dangerous and mesmerizing, yet over before you know it.