Saturday, February 21, 2009

Memorial to Bubba



Bubba, our 20 plus-pound big black cat died today. We are heartbroken. He was the best cat...more like a dog than a cat. He was loyal and very loving. He'd purr at anything. he loved his head rubbed. He loved sharing breakfast with me. He loved laying on Debi and getting loved.

Bubba joined our family in 1996 as best we can remember. He came to us when Myndi picked him out from a litter our friends the Crums' cat had. Bubba was the runt of the litter and the one no one wanted. When he came home he fit in the palm of our hands. He quickly grew to be a BIG cat and being inky black, the name Bubba just seemed to fit.


We had one other cat, a female named Sox, because of pure white sox on her paws. Sox was from a feral mother and was not terribly friendly but stunningly beautiful, a gray and white fluffy long-hair. Bubba always wanted to play and be friends with her, but she wouldn't have it. She tolerated him til she died in 2005.

He was a good hunter when he was young, bring an occasional bird or mouse or even a leaf and putting it on the porch. He often went into the garage of our neighbors through their dog door.


Myndi went away to college a few years after getting Bubba and he became our cat. When he was fairly young he was didn't come in one evening. We searched and called for him for hours but to not avail. We even took out turkey and tuna, his favorites but he didn't come for those like he always did. Leter we opened the front for to find him on the porch with a broken back. He'd been hit by a car and drug himself home by his front feet. We rushed him to an all-night pet hospital and they said he would either get better and live or die but there really wasn't anything they could do for him. We took him home and Debi nursed him back to health. He always had a sway in his back and trouble walking after that couldn't run very well. his weight went up from there.

Vets would always tell us we were overfeeding our cat. In fact, we were very careful feeding him ( I never gave him much from the table) because we knew he wasn't very active. he became a pampered house cat, which wasn't what he wanted. He loved to be outdoors for most years up until he was older. He had his spots to lay and watch the world go by. He espcially like being out at night like all nocturnal animals. It was often hard to get him to come in but turkey or tune almost always lured him in. From the time he was hit by the car he never went near the street again; his territory was the front, back and side yards. He loved laying in the flowers of Debi's garden.

In the evenings he'd come jump on our bed for a nightly love session. I have always been allergic to cats so his laying on my face wasn't pleasant. I'd slowly crowd him over to Debi's side of the bed where he'd ultimately climb up on her and purr like crazy. Twenty-plus pounds on your chest makes it not easy to breath.

Our grandson Noah came to like Bubba, the first animal he was around much. When ever he'd come over he'd ask, "Where's Bubba," when he came in the door. Other people would always remark that they'd never seen such a big black cat when first meeting him. In fact, his front paws were huge.

In his later years he'd just loll around the house in various places. Recently he developed what we thought was a bladder infection according to a vet. His treatment cleared it up but it soon was back. It turned out he had bladder cancer. We could tell over the past few months he was failing. but he was always loving and nver seemd in pain. Yesterday was particulary bad for him. Debi took him to a different vet who found he had a toumor in his bladder and his kidneys were failing. We brought him for one last night. This morning we had to take him back to be put down. He is buried in one of his favorite garden places out in Debi's garden near the butterfly tree in the back.

One charateristic of Bubba was the way he wagged his tail when you called his name. He was more dog than cat in his demeanor. Debi is crushed; Bubba was mom's best friend. I'll miss him a lot, too. He was a good ol' cat, like his name indicated, big, black and loveable.



3 comments:

Myndi said...

Bubba--or otherwise known as Elbow. Elbow was his given name. You may wonder why? I always loved the word 'elbow' and I knew it would drive my family nuts if I named him that. And Elbow he became, until I left that is.

He was a great cat; if he was human he would have been like Julio Iglesias, a great lover. That sounded more creepy than I meant it.

He had a great life. I used to say to my mom, "I wish I was a cat." And then she would say, "Maybe one of our cats." Our cats were loved, loved, loved. They were played with, they were fed well, they were members of the family.

We got Elbow at a low point in my life; I was seriously depressed and had been for some time. Getting Elbow helped, a lot. He was spritely in his prime which was just what I needed. The first night he came to us I slept with him in my room with the door closed so he wouldn't feel overwhelmed by a new house. He spent the night stocking my face. I thought it was so awesome even though I got no sleep at all.

I love you Elbow. I miss you. Thank you for coming to live with us and becoming part of our family.

M said...

I'm really sorry about Bubba. I never really knew him all that well because he was born when I was in college. Then a few short months after I moved back to Oregon Buddy was born and well... Bubba really never came out from under the bed as long as Buddy was around.

Buddy LOVED Bubba and so we've been having conversations about the resurrection all day today.

It's really sad that Sambo never got to know Bubba. He has become totally obsessed with dogs, so I'm sure he would have been in love with Bubba too. I guarantee that Bubba would have been the coolest thing in the WHOLE WORLD to Sambo. (He shreaks with joy whenever he sees a dog.)

Hope you guys are feeling better.

J said...

If you have never had pets then you will never know the joy that comes with having them. Yes, they are hard work just like a child, but they bring love and comfort into your life that no human can.

Smellhouse, as I called him, was no exception. He was big and gentle, loving and comforting. Something about seeing him each time I visited my parent's always made me smile. I would talk to him and he wold meow back.

It's interesting that on Monday when I visited I felt inclined to go sit with Smellhouse in the garage. I didn't know it would be the last, however, I am grateful for one last oppertunity to talk to him and have him answer (meow) back.

You will be missed but you will always be remembered.