Smoker Fat Man had food issues. He had been picked up as a very young stray (when we adopted him he was about 3 months old) and clearly he remembered not having enough to eat. Even after 16 years of living with us and being more than well fed, he would still push the other cats away from their food dishes. We had to feed the other cats on the counters - he was too chubby to jump up. But he was a mellow, genial fellow, aside from his food fetish, he was a purrfect furry friend.
Boo-Boo was a Christmas present for me but cats being cats, Siamese in particular, Boo chose my husband as his god. It was disconcerting to see a Siamese cat worship a human. But The Boo worshiped and adored my husband. The only time I have ever seen my husband cry was when Boo died. While the doctor was putting Boo to rest my husband stood in a corner of the room, with his face to the wall. When the doctor left the room my husband slid down the wall, crouched in that corner and sobbed. It's been 8 or 9 years now since Boo-Boo passed and my husband will still tear up if he looks at photos or if I even mention his name. Like Max was my cat soul mate, Boo-Boo was my husband's.
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