He survived horrible injuries and many doses of antibiotics, which he loved swirled in heavy whipping cream that we called "smoothies." He also loved warm sponge baths and being brushed and hugged and squeezed with way too many kisses from his mom on top of his head. But then that feral thing kicked in daily and he loved to hunt and maim and kill and then belch up fur and feathers. That's when he wasn't eating organic beef or poultry off his own dishes next to the dinner table with us.
We named him Jeeves Hussein Novak because he wore a white tuxedo shirt. And he was black and skinny with a little more white mixed in. And of course he was a Democrat. But our notched-ear, neutered feral ended up with myriad nicknames and a thick coat just like an otter. He was ridiculous and funny, and still nervous but pliable and still learning how to live in a house. And he was so full of love it hurts. My Jeevsie left way too soon.
The vet will bring back his ashes this week. And then I'll always know where he is and that he's safe. But I already miss him more than I have words to describe. And I can't believe he won't walk in my office door any minute now and crunch on some kibble before tossing me a look and heading back outdoors.
Feel free to keep going on the previous thread, or here. I don't really feel much like writing right now. I'll check in again when I'm ready.