Thomas - How we met

1997 - I decided I wanted a cat and went to the Blue Cross rescue centre at Bromsgrove. It was a lovely sunny day and all those sleek, healthy cats were sprawled in the sun...except for one... One scruffy little black and white cat had his nose pressed to the bars and was rasping heavily in asthmatic excitement. Those big green eyes were saying "Love me! Love me!" as he bobbed up and down, willing the visitors to come and pet him.
It was love at first sight.
I was told that he was about 7 years old and he had a heart murmur and asthma and could potentially die at any time. I was also told that I was required to have his rotten teeth removed ASAP as a condition of taking him (which the Blue cross were prepared to pay for, but I paid for myself since they're a charity). I had been given lots of advice about going for the healthy ones and not the pathetic ones, but it was no good. I was in love and I took Thomas home.

The drive home was rather traumatic. Thomas doesn't travel well and wailed continuously for the entire journey. I'd also forgotten to bring a pad for the inside of the cat carrier. This meant that when Thomas wet himself, there was nothing to soak it up and he managed to fall in it several times.

(If you get a cat, be prepared, line the cat basket and make sure there's a litter tray waiting for him at home. Remember, he'll be very frightened.) Once home, I wiped him down, settled him in downstairs (good proximity to food and litter tray) and then popped out to get him a bed (small oversight). When I came back, he was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear the stentorious sound of asthmatic breathing issuing from behind the sofa. Dumbfounded that I'd discovered his cunning hiding place, Thomas came running out for comfort, but then, noticing that the door was open, he fled upstairs (a characteristic for which he gained local fame recorded in poetry and song (Better Get Up Them Stairs - Click here))
With no regard for my wishes as to where he should be housed, Thomas settled himself in my red dressing gown which was lying on the bed and with much purring and prodding, made it his own.

Having been told that on first getting a cat, it should be kept in one room for the first few weeks, I installed his litter tray in my bedroom. Crawling out of the gagging smog the next day was my first introduction to his as yet undiscovered complaint, irritable bowel disease. After a health check at the vets, he was prescribed 2.5 mg of prednisalone (steroid) a day to control his asthma and his irritable bowel. Thomas's teeth were in a terrible mess. Most of them were rotten and he had two protruding front teeth. One which pushed down into his lower lip which had disfigured it slightly and one which stuck out at a 45 degree angle. All of these were removed which was a great relief to me as he had a habit of fondly rubbing his face on my knee, snagging his tooth in my tights and then trying to run away. These were the days when I was buying multiple boxes of hose. After the prescribed period of being locked in my bedroom, I moved his litter tray and food down into the kitchen. However, my bedroom and the landing always remained his favourite places. It was becoming normal to be greeted on a homecoming by an ear and 1 eye peeking round the bannister. Back Home Next