Farewell, Mr Tibbs. We made the tough decision to say goodbye to the puss last week. He was nineteen and a half years old and had several health issues. While it was sad to say goodbye, I’m glad I was able to give that old cat a comfortable and caring home.
Four and a half years ago, I realised the scruffy old cat I kept glimpsing in my yard was actually living under my house, starving and frightened. He would hiss at me and run away if I got too close, but I gradually won him over with food – fresh chicken fillet his favourite. The vet was able to trace his previous owners through the microchip, but they didn’t want him anymore, so I said I’d keep him. I didn’t think a scruffy, ancient, half-wild cat had many other options.
