Cute isn't he? That's Brady and that's his favorite thing to destroy. We refer to him as The Demon, let me tell you why...
First you should know we lost my beloved cat last May. I was devastated, I'd had him for almost sixteen years and he started with a toothache that the vet screwed up removing and he hemorrhaged nearly to death before we had to put him down. Several trips to the emergency room, surgeries, medications, and then funeral costs drained us of all our savings.
Sidebar: Pet insurance is worth the cost.
After crying for months, being sedated most of the time and put on antidepressants, I wasn't doing well. One Saturday we went to buy dog bones and they had adoptions going on at the local Petsmart.
There he was. Looking directly at me. I was instantly smitten.
We spent the week as a family discussing whether adopting would be a good idea because I still cried daily. I was the only one for it. We talked for a couple of hours every day weighing pros and cons and everyone participated. I was still the only one for it. I told them, "If he is still there next Saturday, as cute as he is, it's meant to be and I'm adopting him." I'd put my foot down.
He was still there, but little did we know what we would go through by taking him into our lives.
He started by attacking anything that moved with his laser sharp claws. My thumb required stitches. He dug the dirt out of every plant in the house, then frolicked in it to spread it around into the rugs really good. That occurred three days in a row before I had to put plastic wrap around the pots. He knocked everything off the tables, counters, and desks. He terrorized my other pets (a cat and dog) until they were afraid of him. He destroyed the bedspread with claw pulls. Ingested things that couldn't possibly be good for him and all of which I've never scooped out of the litter box. He flung my wedding ring when I took it off to lotion my hands (it took two days to find it). He nearly destroyed our brand new leather living room set, not by scratching, but just from launching himself off of it and puncturing it with his claws. When he started ambushing people on the stairs we decided he needed to be de-clawed before someone really got hurt.
That took about two days to come to that decision and another eight to find a new veterinarian. We are all very happy now, but that was the bad side of his personality.
What we discovered along the way was that what we thought was a mole (he wouldn't let us get a good look) on his side turned out to be a bullet. Well buckshot. When he was de-clawed, we also scheduled additional surgery to remove the pellets. I called the adoption agency to ask questions about Brady's past and was told he was dumped off at the animal shelter, the adoption agency took him into foster care, and then he went to us. He's only eight months old.
He was obviously beaten because if I have anything stick-like in my hand he gets wild eyed and runs away. Once I tried to toe a ball in his direction and he panicked so bad, believing I was going to kick him, that he wouldn't come out from under the bed the rest of the day no matter how hard I coaxed. Loud noises sent him scurrying for cover. My heart broke.
What kind of indecent human being would do such a thing? When he wasn't terrorizing, he was an angel, he has this adorable little snore, he bites, but never hard and always licks the spot right afterward. He tilts his head nearly sideways when he is curious about anything which always gets someone to say, "Awww." When he sits up, he holds his right paw off the ground like those lucky cat statues in Japan.
We joke calling him half Maine Coon, half Poltergeist. In actuality, he is the epitome of pure love. He snuggles, purrs, and always wants to be near someone whether it's to play or rest. This morning I woke up with him in my arms, purring.
How can something that was abused so badly still have such a capacity to love people? I'm not smitten any more, I'm in love, wholeheartedly. Even if he is a bit of a demon, I always giggle at his antics and have never been angry at the things he's done. He's healed my lonely heart and I know he is truly happy because he is finally safe and loved. Recently we started referring to him more as The Baby rather than The Demon.
If you look closely, you can see how he's destroyed the decorative table box I just bought, chewed up the pumpkins & sticks and ripped off the berries. Isn't he cute?