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  • He came to our house about two years ago and he left us on Friday the 16th of March 2012 not even three years old. Whiskers was a very special cat. He survived a car accident which cost him his left foreleg. And that's how I found him at the animal care center. At that time I was struggling with my own health myself. The moment Whiskers (and his stepbrother Ruffles) came to our house, my health went up-hill. It was like a whole new layer of energy was added and I recovered very fast within the next few weeks.

    I remember so many funny things about this cat. He was crazy and beautiful and he managed to run around perfectly with only three paws. The kids loved him deeply and he would always seek them to cuddle, he was so easy-going. He would have a look at the bathtub while the kids were in and he tried to play with the water. He would sometimes escape the house and run around in the garden - which we didn't like - and we had to chase him back in, armed with water guns. He used to climb in the Christmas tree and take a nap on one of the branches, the first time it happened we were all looking for him, but he didn't make a sound. He drunk water straight form the tap and he would always ask me to adjust the flow so it was perfect for him. Not to soft and not to hard. His talks were so funny, he always replied if you called him and he had quite an arsenal of sounds. And the best thing, he actually was a real cat. Unlike any other cat we had, he truly hunted mice. He would wait relentlessly for them to show up and then he would hunt them down on his three feet and kill them. There was not a lot playing involved with a missing forepaw. One time he had been waiting for over two hours with the mouse stuck under the cupboard, just out of reach. My oldest son gave him a hand. With a small bamboo stick he hit the creature straight into the spot where Whiskers was waiting. The cat only needed a fraction of a second to execute.

    His last week was not a pretty one. He was suffering from a blood disease. We tried everything to save him, but we failed. So on Friday at 11.30 am he cried and struggled. He was gasping and fighting on my lap. I held him close, stroking him and trying to give him as much peace as I possibly could. The fight took him more than an hour, but at 12.45 pm he gave up.

    He was so young, so powerful and so cat. He had to stay with us for at least another fifteen years, but he didn't. He gave us pleasure and a dozen of great memories. But still it hurts and we all miss him like crazy.
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