My furfamily, Boo

Boo, also known as Lucky, then somehow became Boo. Our only all black kitty. I was at work, as a smoker I would go outside often. There were always a lot of ferals around. Mostly I’d see them but never got too near. One evening, I was out on the smoker’s patio and this little black kitty came RUNNING up to me TALKING, meow, meow, meowing. He had a lot to say, very insistent. I’d guessed he was maybe 6 months old. I picked him up and he loved me and I noticed a big gash on the inside of his hind leg. I couldn’t leave him there, he’d have become infected and die. So, home he came.

He rode home telling me his story the whole way, that was a long drive too, a good 45 minutes or an hour. He was the first new kitty to come to Ian and me. He was SO happy to have a home. He healed right up.

He was so funny, he’d wake with me in the mornings and follow me down the hallway chasing my feet, batting my ankles, every morning. He would do that to Bear too until Bear finally got tired of the wee baby Boo pouncing him and finally turned, grabbed Boo by the shoulders, dropped him back first to the floor and bonked him up and down until Boo got the message. LOL, it was SO funny, but Boo didn’t torment Bear anymore after that.

Boo was very vocal, he’d talk to you all the time. Poor baby, he got bladder crystals too and came and sat under our glass dining room table while we were eating dinner and said “MEOW” and tried to pee, nothing came out, I knew immediately this time what the problem was. Off to the vet he went, had to stay a few days, he was NOT happy about that. I would go visit him in the hospital, he’d perk up when he saw me, so happy and then was devastated each day I left and didn’t bring him home. I didn’t know what was worse, leave him alone thinking I’d left him, or visit and leave him each day. He was THRILLED to come home and never forgot. The few times he had to go to the vet after that through the years, he was so scared. I always had to tell him he was coming right back home.

Our sweet Boo, we used to call him Bulemic Boo, for we thought he’d scarf down his food so fast he’d toss it right back up again. We didn’t know that was an early sign of IBD. Ultimately, at 15 ½ we lost our sweet boy to IBD and its complications.

I loved the nick name our friend Lily gave him when it did truly fit him "Big Booty Boo".