In loving memory February
Adopted from PHCR 2008
We are so sorry to hear of Bubba’s passing. His mom writes a beautiful tribute:
His full name was Bubba Gump, because like the movie character, he had a naïve sunniness of disposition, and never met a stranger. He had been found in Vacaville and deposited at Solano County animal shelter until PHCR took him in and we met him. A black Persian with copper eyes, he always loved to answer the doorbell at our house so he could extend his left front paw and turn about so his bum could be scratched. We were unaware of his doglike friendliness at first, but we soon experienced what an unusual cat he was.
We adopted him from Wanda’s PHCR cat garage in Mill Valley because we felt sorry for him—he was a shrimp, only 6 pounds when young and healthy. Furthermore, he snorted and grunted with every breath and step, because his nose was so short. We never had to wonder where Bubba was in our house, because you could hear him across the house. But he was unusual in many ways.
He was trainable—I used to train my collies and show them in obedience trials, so to amuse myself, I gave Bubba a chance to show his stuff, and he did. He learned to sit up and beg, and to speak—he never was sure which was which, so if you told him speak, he would often sit up, and vice versa, or do both at once, but he loved his tricks and did them night and day, sometimes when not ordered to perform. I would be watering my orchids and I would turn around, and there was Bubba, quiet, in full begging position, beseeching my back to pet him. He only ever got a pat on the head, like a dog, and “Good kitty!” was enough reward.
He assumed odd positions—he liked to sleep with his front paws against a pillow or chair arm, as though a nursing kitten kneading his mother. He crossed his paws when at ease, front or back. He loved the furnace intake, fans, or our faces as we breathed, and would join us to read the morning paper, or books and magazines, on the dining table, just so as to feel us breathe. At the end of his life, he fell in love with his HEPA filter because it breathed, and would sit next to it with a dreamy look on his face. I’m a psychiatrist, so I always imagined these things reminded him of his mother. I liked to imagine he was an only kitten. This was partly because he loathed other cats, and so terrified our big rescued Maine Coon Maggie, that she hid in the closet when she heard him coming.
Hs was unmoved by catnip, but loved anthurium tips and made them his daily salad. He adored being brushed and groomed and having his face and whiskers washed. He loved my husband Chris and me equally and completely, and always met us at the door of the garage entry when we returned each day. He had a repertoire of howls (always five, after using his litter box), chirps, and a special bray, like a donkey, when he wanted attention.
He gave us endless pleasure, and we ensured that when he became mortally ill, he went happily and optimistically across the rainbow bridge. Our thanks to his vet, Rachel Griffith (who used to work with Wanda), and to PHCR, for giving us 12 years with a really special animal!