While J was living with GaterBait in Alabama I was living with Wally Cat in Kentucky. Wally deserves a post as well.

If there was an opposite to GB, it was Wally. Wally was a transplanted Nebraska cat driven to Lexington to live with me. He was the sweetest cat I’ve ever known. He always wanted to sit on your lap, lay with you, cuddle on you, follow you around, etc.  I’m sure I didn’t help the situation by carrying him anytime I was at home when he was a kitten, but he learned to be smothered, and liked it. Wally would sleep under my arms at night like he was the little spoon. In fact he hardly ever cried unless he was locked out of the room where people were.

When Wallys mom got married and moved to Alabama he moved too, and quickly tried to bond with his step-sister (or maybe brother?) GaterBait. Although Wally would also follow her around and try to make friends, GB never gave in.

For 4 months I was unemployed with Wally. I am completely guilty of treating Wally like a child during that time (as if I didn’t before). He was my companion during the day while J went to work, and the only friend I had in the state.

Unfortunately GB was a bad influence and taught Wally of the wonderful outdoors, where Wally liked laying in the sun. He also caught a huge woodrat one day, so even though he was spoiled, he was a pretty accomplished hunter too.

September 2011 Wally was hit on the road. I was devastated. I was heartbroken and alone. Although J allowed me to keep the cats inside, he didn’t care for either of them. So even though I knew he was sad for me, he wasn’t sad for Wally. We buried him in the backyard and my grandma sent flowers.

I only had Wally for about a year, and I know I sound like a crazy cat person talking about my cat like he was a child, but he was my first pet. He was all mine, and only mine. I cared for him all by myself in KY, when he got neuter, when he cut his paw on broken glass, and even in AL when GB would chase him around the house. My camera from November 2010 to August 2011 is nothing but black and white kitty pictures. I took a picture of him before I left the house the day he died. I feel like I failed him as a mommy-cat by letting him go outside where I knew it was dangerous.

The next cats became prisoner cats, who have never been outside. They don’t even know what grass is. In fact opening the door scares them and they turn and run. That’s exactly how it should be.