I saw his picture in the September/October 2013 issue of the Best Friends magazine. I LOVE Best Friends (www.bestfriends.org)! I’ve supported their work for a long time, and in 2008, my father and I spent a week in Southern Utah, primarily to visit Best Friends in Kanab. It’s a great place with a wonderful mission.

In every issue of their magazine, they highlight a few adoptable animals that have some kind of special situation. I saw this picture and my heart jumped. Here’s what they said about him, ” ‘I’d love for you to pet me, but you have to find me first.’ Sorry, Goose. You’re not the best at hide-and-seek. Good thing this sweet boy does enjoy being petted, once you reach out to him. You can usually find 12-year-old Goose squeezed into a cubby (Squosh! Umph!) or another piece of cat furniture. Goose lost his home when his people moved away, and he’s feeling a bit worried about all the change. But he’s friendly. He’ll give you a purr for a petting. He just needs someone patient to help him adjust to a new home.”

Since I hadn’t read the magazine when it first arrived, I wasn’t confident he’d still be needing a home. A couple of months before, my beloved Buddy Boy had passed on, and I was still trying to decide if I was ready to bring another kitty into my life. But I decided (well, look at that face!) it couldn’t hurt to check.

He WAS still looking for a home, so I filled out an application and after passing the background check, we were suddenly talking about when he would be arriving at the airport! I started getting everything ready.

His flight wasn’t without issue, as he missed a connection and so was delayed a while, but I was finally heading to the airport on a cold December night to pick him up. I remember waiting a good while at the freight terminal for all the animals to be brought in. I showed my ID and took posession of a pretty large pet carrier with one hunkered-down kitty inside. He WAS trying to squeeze into the smallest ball he could be and didn’t make a sound or even look up.

I put the carrier in the front passenger seat with the open end facing the driver seat, so he could see me. And during the 45-minute drive home, I talked to him a lot. I wanted him to get used to my voice and reassure him everything was going to be OK. Not a peep. Not a growl; not a squeek; not a meow. He was just waiting things out.

I had set up the large master bathroom area to be his first taste of his new home, complete with food, water, cat box, and cozy places to sleep. Once we got home and got situated, I opened the carrier door, and…nothing. He was assessing things, but seemingly not being either curious or scared. He was just, I guess, waiting for whatever would happen next.

He eventually did come out, but it was a while! I don’t recall if I just waited or tipped the cage to get him to move, but once he was out, he found the food and water. He let me pet him, but didn’t really acknowledge my presence. Once he found the cat box, I was satisfied that he had everything he needed for the moment, so I left him there and went to bed.

In the morning, he seemed acclimated. I decided that if he knew where the cat box was, we were good, so I opened the bathroom door and encouraged him to come out. He promptly high-tailed it to under my bed and stayed there for a couple of days! I talked to him, but he wasn’t interested in even acknowledging my presence. Finally, I used a broom handle to gently push him out from under the bed, and that was the last I saw of him for several days! I kept talking to him and occasionally heard him make a noise or sneeze, but I couldn’t really tell where he was.

So Best Friends was right: to pet him, I had to find him first. Finally I narrowed down his hiding place to a big piece of furniture where he’d found a hidey hole. I had to move out one section, get him out, then patch up the opening so he wouldn’t be able to get back in there. 😉

Little by little, he started exploring the house. He found the top of that piece of furniture (as my other cats had, too) and liked to sleep there, so I eventually put a bed up there for him.

Over the next few months, he occasionally came around to visit, but mostly stayed just out of reach. He started to take chances, though, and would come close for a few moments of affection now and then. It was very satisfying the first day he joined me on the couch, sitting next to me to be petted. He wasn’t too into toys, but did play with a catnip duck, too. Mostly he slept or sat nearby, just to be close.

And then, after being here for over a year, he decided he trusted me enough to jump into my lap. He’d noticed that I tended to sit in one place for a long time when I watched TV, I guess, and decided to test the waters. Almost immediately, once I started petting him, he rolled over on his back and wanted belly rubs! I was happy to oblige.

Although his lap visits started out just a few minutes at a time, they grew longer and longer until he was spending over an hour each time…or longer. And he was adamant that I give him my full attention; that is, both hands on him. He was jealous of my phone! During news or talk shows, I tend to play solitare on my phone. He would squirm and wiggle and reach out with his paw until I put the phone down and gave him both hands. Then he’d relax. 🙂

Over the five or so years he was with me, he came closer and closer. We developed a rhythm. He staked out his territory. He wanted to be close on his terms. Eventually, he came to ask for attention. He would even jump up on the couch and meow at me to come sit down. He’d sit next to me and bat at magazine pages as I read. And he’d purr; ah, very nice purr!

But when I was up walking around, Goose was gone! He wouldn’t even let me walk up to him until the last year or so, and even then it wasn’t a sure thing. It felt like achieving some kind of milestone when he finally didn’t run away when he was eating and I changed out his water bowl.

Anytime I watched TV was his lap time, though. Even if I was bringing my dinner to eat, at soon as I sat down, he was at my feet ready to jump up. We cuddled for hours there.

At the same time, he limited himself to certain areas of the house. He never came into my office, though I often spend hours there. He only walked through my bedroom to get to the cat box in the bathroom. He never climbed up on the bed. He had his sleeping places around the couch and occasionally behind some furniture. But he sure knew where his food was in the kitchen. And he knew when it was dinner time! He’d meow to remind me, walking into the kitchen and back to me to make the point. “No, mama, dry food isn’t enough. It’s time for the yummy canned stuff right now!”

After a little over five years together, at the age of 17, my lovely Goose passed away on Monday evening, Feb 25. Moving around had gotten increasingly difficult and recently his body started to shut down. We made adjustments over the last few months, but his body finally gave out. I could tell when he was close to going and was holding and petting him, for which I’m grateful.

And now I’m wandering through my house and my days realizing how much he’d become a part of my everyday life. I always looked for him and said good morning and good night, and goodbye and hello when I left or returned home. My rhythm is off. If it’s 5 PM, it’s dinner time for Goose. I listen for him. I sit on the couch or in my chair, and he’s not there to keep me company. When I’m puttering in the kitchen is when he’d meow to remind me to spend some time with him. When I sit at the computer too long, I think , “It’s time to be with Goose for a while.”

I know it’s purely selfish at this point, but I’m feeling a deep void. I know he’s happy. I feel him cuddled in the arms of Love, content and purring with warmth and belly rubs galore. But… but, I miss our times together. I miss having him meow at me. I miss sitting down and having him jump up beside me. I miss his smell. I even miss the daily ritual of cat-box cleaning; my last chore before bedtime. No longer.

I’m reluctantly removing “his” things around the house. Food and water bowls. Blankets. Cat boxes. Brushes. Nail clippers. I know my rhythm will adjust. Another cat may be in my future. But for now, Goose still has hold of my heart.

Goodbye, sweet, brave boy. I’m so grateful to have had you in my life for the last few years of yours. This is my song to you. I love you.

(The picture of Goose and me together is from Christmas Day 2018, as is the one of him in his cat bed. Click any of the pictures to see larger versions in a lightbox format.)