I’m a dog person; cats, not so much. I walked into the pet store for dog food one day and passed by several cages on the floor. While standing near one of them, a paw came through the bars and coaxingly started tapping and pulling at my leg.
I asked the foster to let me hold him, and when he was handed to me, he wrapped his arms around my neck and began to nuzzle. He had one of those horrible, heart-wrenching survivor stories. I quickly handed him back – I’m a dog person, you know – and left the store.
After a long sleepless night, I realized I had to go back. He had picked me! We named him Yeti (Big Foot) because he was a large, handsome, polydactyl boy with paws like tennis rackets. He adopted our two Chihuahuas, who reluctantly accepted him, and he spent the next 13 years nurturing and grooming them.
Imagine my surprise the first time the Chis lined up for their treats and at the end of the line was a cat, first sitting and then sitting up like a prairie dog, awaiting his treat! Yeti showered us all with his unconditional love, would come on name command, adapted to two long distance moves, and enjoyed traveling and later living temporarily in an RV.
At 14, he started losing weight, and he was diagnosed with renal failure. For several months we tried medications and a special diet, but nothing helped. He was so sick, I knew he was ready; me, not so much. Still, I held him while he peacefully crossed over the rainbow bridge.
What a wonderful pet he was, what joy he brought to our pack! I guess Yeti somehow knew… I was a cat person, too.
Story submitted by Mary A. from Madison, Alabama.
This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Share your very own rescue story here!