Here is my one-eyed cat.
He likes to lounge around with his best friend, Snowflake, who I think looks like an upside down skunk. She’s the one who pulls the yellow rope around like a dog.
Anyway, the point of this. . .
Jack has one eye. He was a wild cat who injured himself somehow. His eye and mouth were infected. Eventually, his eye had to be removed. A local pet store, who rescued both Jack and Snowflake, asked if anyone would take the cats in.
So we did (I didn’t want to at all–it’s my husband who loves cats mostly). I resisted with every fiber of my being (Now, I’m completely in love with cats. I would write blogs about these cats).
Jack’s one eye was strange and a little creepy. But soon, nobody noticed or even cared anymore. Sometimes, because he only has one eye, he bangs into stuff.
He is a tough kitty.
Too tough. He didn’t even purr, not once, ever.
I noticed this one day. Months had gone by, and Jack didn’t purr. Not once, ever.
Our injured, wild cat had lost his purr. Years of sorrow had clogged him up. The purr didn’t work.
The family and I decided to embark on a project to help our injured, wild kitty rediscover cat joy. That purr was in there somewhere. We brushed him, snuggled him, fed him, bathed him, pet him, loved him and loved him and loved him.