I rescued Gus 2 years ago and he rescued me back. My boys (a black domestic shorthair 16 years, and an American bobtail 13 years) had died two months before-- within one week of each other. One from kidney disease, and one I didn’t know was sick.
He acted sick the night before, and I had my sister take him to the vet because I had to work. He died there without me to comfort him. I had to put his brother down the following week. I was destroyed.
My niece, who knew how devastated I was, convinced me to get a cat. Mostly, to be true, she bullied me into it. Both my husband and I work full time and we didn’t want a super young kitten. We told her if we got another cat, it would have to be an American Bobtail because we adored the dog-like personality.
My niece did the research and found the Ragdoll breed, affectionate and dog-like. She found Gus online, his family had to get rid of him because of financial difficulties. He was 10 months. He’d never had shots, he wasn’t fixed, he had ear mites, and an eye infection. By the time I was done with him, he thought the vet was only there to molest him on a regular basis. Still he was kind enough the vet adored him.
Since I live quite remotely in a native village in the Arctic, I flew down to Anchorage and drove an hour to the Wasilla Wal-Mart parking lot to pick him up. They didn’t show. I had a 3 hour window to make my flight back. One hour back, and two hours before the flight. I called. The lady said it would be another couple of hours since she was waiting for someone to return with her car. I had to tell her I could only wait one hour. She made it one hour and fifteen minutes later.
They hugged him in the car, and that made me sad again, because they had to give up their pet. I promised them he would live a great life and be incredibly spoiled (so far, making good on that). I paid, and they handed him over. I picked him up and felt the ragdoll love as he melted into me. Then I dragged him for an hour car ride, a 3 hour wait in the airport (our flight got delayed), and a 2.5 hour plane ride home.
He was a real trooper. He sprawled on the couch within an hour of being home. He distracted me from my grief, and his personality and love finally healed my broken heart. I still miss my boys all the time, but Gus made me happy again.
We had a mix of names ready. The people said they had called him kitty or hyper; he didn't really have a name. None of the names we had fit him. We went through a crazy list of names. Nada.
My dad had the nickname Gus after Gus Gus the fat mouse in Cinderella. (When it came out, my dad was a chubby little kid with ears that stuck out, so his siblings teased him mercilessly and called him Gus Gus he kept that name until he died). I suggested Gus, and it fit him perfectly. He answered to it almost immediately.
One sweet thing about my boy, he’s always been immediately accepting of all other people and animals. My niece moved in with her dog. He didn’t even blink. She brought home another kitten for us, a little rumpy Manx mix who was super sick (and we thought she wouldn’t make it), and he treats her like the best thing that ever happened to him. He lets her do anything she wants (even eat his food and treats) and adores her. She got better (even though it was touch and go, but that’s a story for another website). My sister moved in with her little yappy Yorkie; Gus didn't even smack him.
We found that Gus adores Yeoww! Bananas and he has punished a few of them as you may have read elsewhere on Facebook Floppycats. I’m so glad he came into my life.
Here’s to my wonder floof--Gus Gustopherson Cloud Belly of the Fluffy Knucklebuck Warm Bottom Clan, may you live forever!
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