Early in 2002, during a weigh-in meeting in my house (I used to run weight-loss and-management groups in my home) I overhead a member telling her friend she was thinking of having their household cat put down (euthanized). I asked her if I could take her her over instead. She agreed. Her husband brought Pudding to me that afternoon. She spent the first five days under my bed only venturing out at night to have a bite to eat and use the sandbox. Up to this point in her life, she had lived in a family with three of the rowdiest little boys who terrorised her if they caught her. If she tried to escape tot he back garden of their house, she was harrassed by two huge cat-chasing dogs. I don't think she could believe the peace in our home. Even though there were seven other cats in the house at the time and two dogs outside, none of the other animals bothered her. She eventually jumped out of my bedroom window to explore the garden.
Pudding never became sociable though. I had to feed her on her own and she also seperated herself fom the from other animals and humans at all times.
Pudding spent the next eight years lying on the best spot in the sun on the garden wall. She slept on top of the fridge at night. Her previous owners told us they thought she was about seven years old so she must have been fifteen this year. When we came home in July we noticed that she had "slowed down". I arranged her blanket next to the panel heater in my bedroom and with her own "Senior" kibbles and water near her, this is where she stayed and where Emily cared for her while we were away from home.
On Wednesday evening when we arrived home from Johannesburg, I placed Shadow's travel cage on the carpet in my bedroom. I saw that Pudding's food and water bowls were freshly replenished by Emily that day, but I could't see Pudding. Grant , following behind me to see how Shadow was coping in his new environment, walked around his side of the bed to place his wallet on the table. Then he saw Pudding. She was lying on the carpet beside the bed and she was dead. Poor old lady. She was still warm, which saddened me, I wished I could have seen her, held her in her last moments. But there were no signs of distress or agony on her face'; she looked very peaceful. We wrapped her in a pillowcasse and in the dark, Grant dug a hole in the garden below the wall where she spent so many days sunning herself.
Pudding was known and loved as the Grand old Lady of the Hedges house.
Rest in peace, dear Pudding. We miss you.
Even when she was younger, Pudding never ate just any ole kibbles. I had to serve her a choice of three varieties and hope she'd eat one of them!
Because of her senior status, I always fed Pudding seperately from the other cats. She (like all our cats) had her own bowl, but I fed her on a blanket-covered chair away from the other pets
For the three years that I was home, Pudding's favourite spot at night, was on top of the fridge
A photo taken a few months ago of Pudding asleep in the office lounge. (Tigger and Manduline are asleep on the other chair) For the past four months (especially as we were away), Emily kept Pudding in our bedroom. She had her blanket next to the panel heater on the wall, her own "Senior" kibbles (cookies), her own litter box and she could sleep on our double bed if she wished
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