I would like to take a few minutes to remeber Picasso and share his story. I find this to be a great way to remember, so I may post more stories sometime.

Picasso was a shorthair orange male Persian who came to our shelter about four years ago. He had been rescued from his owner who had kept him shut in a closet for his whole life so no one would know he was there. He was declawed on all four paws, but it wasn't right. Whatever vet had done the procedure had done a terrible job, and his paws were sore and dysfigured. The problems didn't stop there. He had chronic watery eyes, and breathing problems, probably from having no circulation. His teeth were almost all gone, so he could only eat canned food, and it was impossible to tell his age. It ranged from 2-20. No one could tell.

When Picasso came to our shelter he had every reason to be "vicious" or scared of people. But not Picasso. He was the sweetest, most gentle cat alive. Everyone who worked there fell in love with him, and so began the second part of his life.

Picasso was adopted once or twice, but he was always brought back because he couldn't use a litterbox. We tried everything from a cookie sheet with waxed paper, to a puppy pad. He did eventually use it, usually. From then on my sweet baby was plagued with even worse health problems. For a while he fostered kittens, but we found that they were to rough with him and he had bites all over him. So he was a resident cat. He'd live there till the end.

Picasso had to be spoon fed most of his life, and we'd make a pointed hill of his food so he could grab it. Picasso and I bonded tremendously during those feedings, and when he was let out, he would stare under the door crack for me to come back. He followed me around and I admit, I was truly in love with him. Once a month he would get really sick and almost die. The vet encouraged the manager to put him down, but he was everyone's favorite.

About 2 years later, I had no choice (or so it seems) but to stop volunteering. I'll never forget the last time I saw him. When I said goodbye I felt like the worst person on Earth. A month later I saw on their website that he had been found dead in his condo.

Even now (at this moment), I still cry my eyes out. I should have been there for him, taken him home, or something. I wonder if he thought of me when I left and thought I abandoned him. I would do anything to see him again. Anything.

Thanks for letting me remember, and share the story of the kindest cat who ever lived. I'm sorry about the length!


I love you Picasso. Wait for me at the bridge! I'll be there.

What a beautiful tribute to Picasso. He sounds like such a wonderful kitty.

Even though you weren't there when he died, I'm sure he never doubted you're love for him. He sounds like too special a guy to be doubtful.

Thank you for sharing his story. It was very touching.
Kathleen

I just get so upset when I hear about wonderful animals or people being so mistreated. It breaks my heart to hear that one who should be so loved and treasured was without love.

I was an abused child who was adopted at the age of 9. I too was locked in a closet at night many many times. I suffered so much at the hands of someone who should have loved and protected me.

Picasso sounds like he did his very best to overcome his problems and to show love although he had been so unloved and treated so badly. Sometimes those are the very ones who show love the most and in return just want to be loved. They are the ones who often turn out so gentle and loving.

He knew that you were there to love him and take care of his needs. Maybe he lay there in that condo and thought about the love you had shown him. He in return could then leave this world knowing that someone had loved him. Maybe his little spirit soared into the Rainbow Bridge knowing that someday someone (you) would love him forever.
Ann