Chumley wandered into our yard one wintery day and took up residence in the bushes. For weeks I tried coaxing him out with tuna, turkey, and wet cat food. He wasn't falling for it, and would wait patiently until I set down the food and walked away before he would come out to eat. One night I was sitting on the front steps enjoying the night breeze and Chumley snuck up and rubbed his face on my hand-- scaring the heck out of me because I didn't see him coming. Of course that little gesture of his.... gave me complete permission to scoop him up and love on him! From that day forward he would never shy away from being touched again...
Chumley was a skinny, malnourished boy when I came across him. He was missing one of his fangs... and you could just tell life had been hard on him. Many a time, I would catch him looking around to see if he was alone... tilt his head to look up to the sky and then start these long mournful, howling-meows. It resembled a dog howling, only Chumley would be meowing at the top of his lungs.
As a small remembrance of my little hobo kitty, Chumley, I made a statue of him. Chumley wasn't a soft, smushy kitty. Chumley was more of a rigged, no-nonsense cat. I assume because of his advanced age and rough life that he was this way, I'm not sure. Although, with that said, I could easily turn him into a drooling, foolishly happy beast none the less just by petting him and showing him affection...
I added the word "Meow" to the statue.... His howling meow's will forever be a sweet-sweet happy memory.
I was lucky to have loved him for the time he had left. My precious hobo kitty... Chum. *sniffle*
big hugs,