❤️In Memory of the Following Pet❤️
These True Stories will tell you how much intense is the Love given by a Pet to us and what These Pure and Wonderful Living Beings mean to any one who Truly Loves Them also unconditionaly!
21 YEARS OF CUTENESS AND DISASTERS
Here we go. I am @LidiaPhilema on Twitter. Am an italian journalist with many cats at home. Lately, I lost a great ladycat, Camilla, the oldest of a Gang of Five. This is the story of how we met. It takes us back in time a little bit …
Milan, Italy, December 1994 – January 1995
In late December that year, there were already four cats who had the run of my house: the black and grey tabby Van Dijk, the black and white Philema, Paperino (a female, despite her boy’s name), and Scricciola (the latest to arrive, two years previously). They were in no hurry to welcome another housemate into their midst, and if there was one thing I was sure of, it was this: four cats in the house was plenty, thank you very much, if not actually too many. The embarrassment I felt at the supermarket checkout each week as the cashier rang up ridiculous amounts of tins of cat food was considerable. Not a Saturday went by without me having to answer the same question from whoever was on duty: “Excuse me, madam, but what’s all this for? Do you have a shelter?” And I would answer: “No, I only have four, but they eat enough for twenty”.
My cats at that time
Taking in another cat, then, was out of the question. But, you know, you can always change your mind, can’t you? And so, on 1 January 1995, after a night spent ringing in the New Year, I grabbed my pet carrier and went off to my colleague to pick up “Camilla”. The bare minimum of notice: the phone had rung just an hour before. In my sleep I said to myself: “What idiot is calling me at the crack of noon on the 1st of January?” I picked up the receiver and a torrent of words came at me: “… gorgeous but a little demon … broke everything … my wife … sick and tired … you have to understand, we already have three cats … we’ll bring it to the shelter … when are you coming?”.
That New Year’s Day, in my colleague’s house at lunchtime as I was putting Camilla in the carrier, I noticed my colleague, his wife and his three children all heaving deep sighs of relief and a chill ran down my spine. What was I letting myself in for?! Was it possible that this little kitten with the innocent air, soft as a teddy bear, with its fiery red fur called Camilla by my workmate, could be so diabolically demonic? I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt. We said our goodbyes. I got into my car and started the engine. I hadn’t even put it in gear when ‘somebody’ projectile vomited slimy cat biscuits right through the bars of the carrier and all over the back seat. Straight after, to complete the job, Camilla released a gallon of pee, also onto the back seat of my car, which by now was swampy enough to make the Everglades seem like a desert.
Young Camilla (long whiskers and “evil” eyes)
Camilla had been found half frozen by my colleague in a fashionable part of Milan, still with a big pink bow around her neck, half buried under the snow. She had been a present for some lucky person. She was not more than three months old and so born in August or September 1994, and considerably valuable: a purebred European female, ginger, with all the standards of the breed, clean ears, clipped claws, and no worms or parasites. Who knows the length of the pedigree she had. In short, a show cat. Animals should not be abandoned, especially if they are valuable. But, she could have run away from home … My colleague and his children tried everything to find its owner, but nobody claimed the cat. Nor has anybody ever done since then. So, as Camilla progressively destroyed their house, my colleague’s whole family reached the conclusion that the kitten had been deliberately ‘forgotten outside’ on account of its special talent for destruction.
Young Camilla on her way for… something
I got home with that comical little ball of ginger fur in the early afternoon. That evening I:
- swept up shards of pottery in the living room;
- cleaned up water spilt from an overturned vase;
- consumed rolls of kitchen paper to clean up assorted patches of vomit and pee;
- changed the water in the saucepan on the stove because I had caught Camilla repeatedly dipping a paw into it and licking it with gusto;
- replanted my ficus, which had been completely uprooted;
- rearranged my videocassette collection, noticing that my rare Bambi tape was already missing a corner;
- saved my National Geographics from her claws, when I saw the new arrival reaching for them with razor-like talons, after ignoring the two scratching posts used by the other cats.
Ah yes, the ‘other cats’. How had they taken the arrival of Hurricane Camilla?
Ginger Camilla in a ginger world
They were dumbfounded. They were like statues of salt. Each one sat immobile in some part of the house and followed Camilla’s movements with their heads as, like lightning, she ran in every direction, covering every latitude and longitude. In seconds she scoffed the dinner of all four cats, snatching it from their four bowls. She then promptly returned their food to them, under the form of vomit. She argued with Diki (and had the best of it), and with Philema (beating her, too), she ran over Paperino a shocking number of times, and she stuck a claw into Scricciola’s nose, and the latter was hiding terrified under the sofa and could not be coaxed out.
Oh, poor other my cats…
The first month with Camilla passed. Very. Painfully. When I got home from work instead of greeting my son with: “Hi, how’s it going?”, the first thing I said was: “What has she broken today?” Everything in the house bore the unmistakable signs of Camilla: the curtains, doors, walls, picture frames, electric wires, books, magazines, phone directories, plants, the base of the sofas, the cushions, the towels, the rugs in the living room, the mat in the kitchen, everything bore the mark of Camilla; or rather, the scars of Camilla. Where she goes, the grass never grows. No food, even when it was placed on the highest shelves in the kitchen, could survive her onslaught: one day she managed to steal a whole roast chicken from the oven. She snatched fish right out of the frying pan, and spaghetti boiling in a saucepan. And she never burned herself, though I often noticed a shrivelled whisker or two, as though she had just got a perm. She fought like a street urchin, claws flying left and right, and she ate more than my other four cats combined. She was very much the boss in the house.
Camilla, the Boss
A nightmare, day and night. And, as soon as I climbed into bed, the little creature threw herself onto my pillow and, as though wanting to be forgiven for the trouble she had caused that day, started to lick my hair vigorously, while her front paws massaged my face like a baker kneading dough. Not a moment’s rest did I get. That’s who I had opened my home to.
This is not a pic. Camilla fell asleep on the scan, so did I !
But this comical little ball of fur would soon prove very helpful in a very troublesome situation that happened to my parents. What was that? I will tell you next time, in the second part of this story. For now, I’ll leave it at that, just saying that Camilla has pulled an incredible amount of pranks over the years. No less than 22 years of mischief, because that is the venerable age of Camilla in 2016, considering she was born in August 1994. Over the years I have replaced the things Camilla destroyed. And how is she? Oh, she was just peachy: her secret is to be the quintessential cat: sleep, eat, play, and cause mayhem. Which is – unfailingly – forgiven. Camilla went #OnTheRainbowBridge on September 9, 2016, leaving an emptiness which only lovely memories could fill. This is the end of part one, when Camilla at the time was very alive, lovely and terrible.
Camilla, 2016: 22 years old
End of part one.
❤️❤️❤️ These are some photos of my beloved beagle, Rusty❤️❤️❤️
He was about a year old when he walked through my small home town to my family’s farm house on a dead end street. He was incredibly malnourished, disheveled, and had many sores on his body and feet from where a human being had been violently beating him. He had been dumped off at the edge of our small town and had walked across town, until coming upon my family’s farm house, where he then sat on our porch. We discovered this beagle outside, and I knew at once that I wanted to keep him. I’d grown up with a fear and dislike of dogs, however, there was something about this beagle that seemed so kind, gentle, and he was obviously in need of human kindness.
My family and I kept the beagle and watched for any ads in the local newspaper or around town to make sure that his owner would not try to reclaim him, despite the fact that a truck was witnessed outside of town dumping him off onto the highway. No one ever claimed him. A year later, at 19, I moved out of my parent’s house into a 1 bedroom apartment of my own and took my beagle with me, along with my cat.
Rusty spent many years with me and despite having some behavior issues and separation anxiety, I was able to help diminish his issues and he found happiness and lots of love in our home. Rusty was the most amazing, beautiful dog who allowed me to open my heart and fall in love with dogs for the first time in my life. Now, I can’t imagine my life spent without having a dog. Rusty was my best friend and will always be. At age 9, he encountered multiple organ failure and pancreatitis and at that point, I had to make the hardest decision of my life to spare his suffering and let him pass on. I am no where near healed of the painfulness of this loss, but owning another shelter dog has helped ease the pain and also honors my beagle, who spent the first year of his life around abusers.
He was my angel for 9 years here on earth, and I will be so happy to see him again at the end of this life. He is the reason that I became so very outspoken about the ramifications of animal abuse and also why I’ll never buy another cat or dog from a pet store and will continue to adopt pets in shelters that desperately need homes. I now try to keep his memory alive with the story of his strength and love and the beautiful 9 years we spent together that changed my life.
In Memory of the Following Pet❤️
Lennox – Northern Ireland
Eliminated by a discriminatory law against a specific Breed
The World will never forget Him
Lennox, World Hero!
A letter from all of us that Love you.
Dear Lennox we loved you since the day we heard about you. Our heart beat stayed with you all the time, pumping both of our so contagious feelings of Hope. We followed your story, day in and day out, and we prayed for you. We felt your despair alone on a cell thinking of the times of joy you shared with your beloved Family. You are our Hero!
We felt the cold of the cell that the Injustice of a few locked you in. We lived the darkness of the environment you were subjected to, and we knew that you could not understand the many “whys” of such uncalled for strong-minded cruelty.
Do not think Lennox that we are all the same. Thousands of Good People in the World Loved You, Love You, and will forever Love You Lennox! You are our Hero!
Although on those two years you only saw the cruel part of the human race we are sure Lennox that within your Heart You knew that we were all thinking about you, and questioned for sure why those cruel people were mistreating you for no sane reason.
Life Lennox is not an easy task, not even for us called Humans. Life is a challenge and the strength we have determine our success or our failure. You had the Strength all along, the Courage, the Kindness, the Genuine Unconditional Love Trait, and the Respect. All of these were enslaved on the dirty place the “other humans” put you in. You felt Hope. We felt that with you!
Justice was sought by the ones that Loved you from their Hearts, and that You Loved the same way, but the uncalled cruelty of a few decided in the end your fate. Blessed be you Lennox for your Love and Cursed be those who maliciously punished you.
We will remember You as long as we live, as we will fight to change the laws which punished you!
They created the fake thought that you looked like another one, but we know in our Hearts that you are A Real Angel.
Now that you no longer share with us the place on this complicated Earth of ours we know in our Hearts that We will meet you someday up there Lennox, in a World where all Humans and Animals will live side by side on an Everlasting Happiness.
Sorry Lennox that we failed you and we also apologize for those that did not let us help you, and we assure you Lennox that we will forever be devoted to you!
Rest in Peace our so Dear Lennox. We know where you are now. Just watch from there, keeping all of Us strong so that We could keep fighting for the well being of all animals.
“Hoping is a Feeling that Never Fades” ~ Sam D.
Lennox, we do Love you!
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