Pichu, my sweet fluffy boy is at the Rainbow Bridge, where he will be forever young and healthy.
We had to let him go yesterday, when it looked like he was not going to get better anymore.
I met Pichu outside of my apartment building in August 2003 when I was going out with my sister one August evening. He looked like a dandelion. His fur was so beautiful, his face was so sweet and he was so trusting, nothing like the other few ferals we had there. We stopped to pet him and give him some scritchies and then went on to have pizza. All that time at the restaurant, we talked about how sweet he was and how he didn't look feral. By the end of the meal, we couldn't wait to get back and see if he was still there, because we realized he was probably someone's cat that they just put outside. We got back and we couldn't see him. Both Carolina and I were quiet that evening, we felt like we missed the chance to rescue the kitten.
Two days later, coming from work, I saw two little girls playing on a bench with him and when I stopped to talk to them, the girls tried to convince me to adopt him I still think it's sweet that the little girls were also trying to find a place for him. I found out from them that he had been someone's kitten and that the family didn't want him anymore and just let him out (their loss, my win). I took the little ball of fur and from the first floor to the sixth, I knew he had found a home - my home.
Juni did not agree with me - we had to tie her to the foot of the bed so that she wouldn't attack the kitten. We found out that she knew how to swear like a pirate - WOW! It didn't take long and he earned his name Pichu (means little boy in Romanian) and he learned how to play. Very soon we figured out he was going to be a pretty big and muscular cat, so everybody wondered why Piciu, when he was such a big boy.
Pichu was always a sweet cat. To everyone - cat, child, adult, dog. He was really loved by all the children that visited us - he played with them, took all the abuse that came with it with such grace and positive attitude.
There was no better helper than Pichu either - he helped me write my papers, my sister with her designs and my brother with developing software. When Greg would come tired from work, Pichu would purr like a tractor on his lap. Pichu was famous for his extraordinary kneading - he would get in the zone and just knead away with his front paws and his hind paws would twitch too, and he wouldn't even see or hear what was going on around him.
He had a good last weekend - we had some friends over and he played with their little girl all day, walked outside, enjoying the wind in his whiskers and the birds chirping. He gave himself one of his famous baths until his belly was soaking wet.
There was no better kittycat than Pichu - he welcomed three other cats in his home without any complaint. He moved around with me from place to place in Chisinau and then to Germany, and then to Kansas. We wish we could have had more time with him, but he gave us almost ten years of happiness, joy and loving. He had a good life with us and we had a good time with him.
He is resting on his favorite catbed, by the martins' house, where he can listen to the martins chirping and all the other birds from the trees by the creek.