The day O and I moved into our hand made hippie home in the mountains we went to the local shelter (then at our country vet's) and brought home a kitten. The kitten walked into out house, looked around and said "This will do." We named him Gandolf (so our spelling was a little off). He attained a weight of at least 16 pounds of muscle and he was an indoor, outdoor anytime cat and a personality to be reckoned with.
We were a bit wild and wooly ourselves back then. Our house was so cold that winter that Gandolf's water bowl would be frozen when I came downstairs. We had plastic in the windows and the world's longest outside stove pipe. The house had only wood heat, this in an area that can reach 25 below. But it was our house and we were going to live in it.
When Gandolf walked down the stairs you could hear him. Thump, thump thump. I taught him to come to a whistle, (easy enough, just whistle whenever you put down food) and he would come flying through the woods at that sound. He loved his food. He loved it so much he would purr over it before he ate, like a prayer, his jowls drooping.
You can see the size of his head in the photos. He was huge. One day when he was somewhere around 14 he just didn't come home and we knew he had gone to die in the woods he loved like the wise and independent soul he was.
I hope he's waiting for me at the bridge. We were young together in the back to the land days and he was an important part of the adventure. I'll scan the only photo of our house that year and you can all laugh.
Feline Friday is at the Modulator.
2 comments:
Of course Gandolf is waiting there at the Bridge. He met Fergus there and they are exchanging stories and laughing at you. That's what they do there.
What sweet photos! He was too "well-dressed" for a hippie cat, lol.
~ tammara
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