Big Bruce picked me and my house 6 years ago. I was not looking to adopt another cat. But, Bruce was a shelter cat with no prospects of finding a home. Bruce, a big boned fellow, was pretty ragged out. His hair was thin and patchy and many bones on his big frame were visible. I decided to foster him. I brought him home and he was welcomed by the other cats -- Fiona, Gladys, Micky & Merl. Why not, Bruce was a blob. For the most part, he just hung out in a basket in the utility room. I advertised him as a sweet, gentle cat who was looking for home. Several people called and a couple of them came to meet him. Each time Bruce was in the basket, and each time I took Bruce out of the basket to show him off -- his long body, his sweet personality, his gentle head-nudge Each time, however, Bruce just crawled back into the basket.
A month later, my family and I decided that since Bruce was no trouble, and since he rarely even got out of the basket, he might as well stay. That very next day I filled out the adoptions paperwork, Bruce was no longer a foster cat, but my cat. And, that very same day, Bruce got out of the basket in the laundry room and never got in it again. He sleeps on my bed, on top of my legs or on top of my head (really) and if I try to move, he swats me. He also sleeps on both of my kids' beds, the window ledge and his kitty cup. He plays hard, really hard, especially with Merl. If Merl says enough with a full-face hiss, Bruce says MORE and jumps on Merl signaling that the game is far from over.
But, Bruce is not playing right now. He's in the hospital. His kidneys are not doing what they are supposed to do. The doctors and nurses are working very hard to get Bruce back on track. He's spent two nights this week in the hospital. The picture of Bruce in his hospital cage shows an anxious cat ready to get out. I keep telling him, "Bruce, you chose to live with me 6 years ago, and now you better choose to get better so you can go back home." It's hard to sleep without Brucie on my legs, or even my head.