A few weeks ago the family cat, Molly, passed away. She had dropped to four pounds and the vet thought she had cancer and was blind in one eye.
Molly joined our family in the fall of 1999. She was a wild cat that had been caught by the humane society. I still can't imagine how they caught her because she was so fast. She was nicknamed 'spit fire' at the shelter because she hissed at anyone that came near her cage. We brought her home and loved her, and she hissed and bit in return unless we caught her right after a nap, then she purred and loved us. She may have been a mean old cat, but she was our mean old cat.
I have many memories of Molly: One time she jumped out of my lap and her back claw cut my face from my chin to my eye. She may have been mean a lot, but when I was sick she would come lay by me. She used to run from the top of the stairs to the window in the living room and back. She hissed whenever she saw Ryan and one time he gave her some treats and she wanted to eat them but also needed to growl/hiss and she ended up sounding like she was saying 'yum, yum, yum'. If you were holding her while she heard bath water she would cling on and yelp because she didn't like the water.
It's crazy to think that we had her for more than half of my life. Cody says that she is probably hissing and biting Heavenly Father's hand right now- that's probably true :)
No comments:
Post a Comment