While sitting at my desk at work, I received a phone call from my hubby who is home packing for a camping trip. I don't know why he said, "I found your Tommy." I don't know a 'Tommy' nor have I had an animal named 'Tommy.'
After a while I realized that he was talking about "Fuzz Bucket." A male cat born around the first of October last year to the stray "Ginger" who adopted us. "Fuzz" was one of those little kittens I am holding in a photo in a previous blog post. He was the 'runt' of that litter.
My hubby found "Fuzz" dead in the barn. Fuzz Bucket had missed dinner and breakfast for about the last two day: very unlike him. Hubby said that he could see no bite marks, but that really means nothing living way out in the country like we do. The way that cats roam, it is very hard to say what he got into or what got him. I will miss him and will the inside cats. Fuzz always came to the tall skinny window by the door and put his nose there and meowed for Abby. She would go to the window and the two would sit nose to nose with only the glass in between them. When the door opened, Fuzz would come into the house, but only as far as the entrance way. Both, Abby and Shy hissed at him, but never once did he hiss back. I figured eventually he would end up a house cat. I was wrong :-(
Out of (the stray that adopted us last year) Ginger's four kittens, he stuck around the longest. Franky and Lucy Diaz left the farm about March and the last time that Scamper was seen he had a sore foot then disappeared in July.
None of the cats, including Ginger, would let us get near them, except Fuzz. He loved being held and petted. A medium/long hair solid orange cat, he never once tried to bite or scratch- very unusual for a ferral cat. For the last couple of weeks Fuzz has been a surrogate father-really big brother to Ginger's latest 5 kittens which will be 2 months old tomorrow: they were born July 4.
These kittens were being held when they were only 4 weeks old. Then Ginger didn't like the fact that her babies would let humans pick them up and love them all over. So, she must have given them a big talking to, because now they run when they see humans.
Back to Fuzz. Hubby said that he buried him this morning outside the blacksmith shop.
To my skinny little Fuzz Bucket....may you rest in peace sweetie!