I have been blessed with the most charming, crazy, spoiled, strange, gentle, weird, scary, beautiful, lazy, adventurous cat ever. His name is Wossum, and the story behind how he got his name was certainly a very dramatic-scary moment in his little life. One that could have limited his life span to only 4 Weeks had we not interfered with the "Circle of Life" as someone once so rudely put.
 |
| Wossum, when he was a baby :') |
Living at my grandmothers house, we noticed that cats would come and go. Eventually those cats turned out kittens, and kittens(as well as the older wild cats) sadly would come and go to the natural ways of nature. One kitten imparticular caught the attention of me and my mother, a small smokey-little dusty lookin ball of fur. He seemed to be much more tougher than his 4 week old image put out, as he wondered the open back yard with the other cats that found their way into my grandmothers backyard. I point out a whole in the fence, where they came and went as they pleased, usually when the food was gone. He would trot along and follow the big cats as if he was one of them. Eating when my uncle would whistle to give them scraps and or cat food he would buy. The little kitten was an orphan, my mother and I concluded when we realized that none of the other cats really took care of him the way most mother cats would.
We tried as the days went on to capture him, just to hold him and pet him, and to basically absorb his cuteness. We managed to catch him twice, but he being on his own from an early age, he was a fast learner to staying away fom anything that seemed dangerous. Including us two friendly humans.
One night while my mother was out in the backyard, enjoying the sparsly-cloudy sky, with a bright moon. She was frighteningly alarmed by the screams of kitten in distress. Her mind immediatly thought of the little, gray kitten that wondered grandmothers back yard, that would hide-out under the house. She ran and crouched down under the house from where the little kittens screams came from, and was met with a horrible, nasty Possum hissing and spitting at her. She grabbed a hand ful of rocks from under the house and began throwing them at the possum, that was still hissing and screaching at her. Mother eventually managed to get the possum to retreat. Though where was the kitten? it was quite and dark and he was nowhere to be found.
I was in the shower, listening to music as this happened. Once out I asked my mother what all the banging on the door was earlier. She proceeded to tell me about what she had heard and that she needed some flashlights to try and find the kitten. She thougt he as dead, and she didnt want to give the possum the satisfaction of coming back to retrieve his body. We searched for almost two hour under the house and the surrounding trees and bushes. The little gray kitten was nowhere to be found, my mother luckily thought of one more place to look, the old water heater attached to the back of the house.
Sure enough, to our hearts content she found him. He had crawled through a small opening underneath the waterheater and hid in the corner of the wooden cover. She picked him up and we took him to thelaundry room. My mother grabbed the first aid kit, where she began to nurse his wounds. The possum must have spooked him and as he tried to make a run for it and the possum took hold of his little hind foot. It was all swollen and pink. Thankfully he was not bitten to bad, blood or broken bones. Just a big, fat, foot.
 |
| Wossum having his first Bath after we brough him in. |
After that night he didnt leave my sight nor side, we brought him in and I took over nursing him backto health. He slept in a pet-carrier, complete with a soft towel and his very own special toys, (which I went out the very next afternoon to buy him.) It took him about a week to walk around on his own, and he didnt mind jumping and running amuck so early with a huge, fat, swollen foot. He had not fear in his new home, and I was very protective of him. My sisters kids were visiting, and theyre sweet, but I would not have him rough-housed at all. He ruled the house, and learned to use the kitty box two days after being in our home. I was very proud of him. After about a week of having him we settled on a name, Wossum. My nephew couldnt pronounce the word possum, so we thought it was cute and the name stuck. Wossum was here to stay, and I finally have a cat that I can call my own.
He is everything a cat should be, and more. A very special cat, and I love having him here with me. He will be a year old this coming October. <3
 |
Cotton Candy Wossum |
