Story submitted by Debbie and James Knowles.
It’s hard to believe that over a year has gone by, a year and a half since we first got Ruffy.
Ruffy doing 'Cat Yoga'
I’m happy when I see ‘Boog’, as I call him, and ‘Baboo Kitty’ as my husband calls him stretched out on the back of the sofa, or at his favorite perch in the window. He’s usually purring, happy and lazy with an occasional endearing ‘prrrt’ and a frisk down the hall with a toy ball or catnip toy. It’s great because Boog’s past might now have been so happy.
Boog showed up one spring day, a scruffy, painfully thin orange cat who obviously had been abandoned. He just showed up out of no-where, and it turned out he was sleeping in the back of an old car in our neighbor’s yard. Kindly, they didn’t do anything to deter him (‘I’m not using the old thing right now anyway.”) As near as we can figure it, someone must have left him behind when they moved, for he was very social, he’d even run up to the post man or UPS delivery man to be petted, crying it seemed for help.
When he first showed, we weren’t there. We had gone on our honeymoon, to find out that my sister and our cat sitter had found this little marmalade cat and taken him to the vet and pleaded with Bobbi to get him in. This was totally understandable, we had 5 cats already in the house we all shared, 3 who were rescued feral kittens and an older FIV+ cat who ruled the roost and brooked no opposition. Alas, Ruffy turned out to be FIV+ as well, and somewhat at that point, fragile. Bobbi told us that it was much more difficult to find a home for a FIV+ cat, and at Atlas, he would be susceptible to any airborne URI there was.
We took him home, and our lovely cat sitter began to hunt around for a home, or if nothing was forthcoming, a sanctuary. As there was no where else to put him, Ruffy got the best room in the house, the newly done glassed in porch. We put in a portable heater for the cold days, and a litter pan, cat bed, and plenty of water and food. He had two cat trees and a cardboard box he loved to play on.
His official name at Bobbi’s was ‘Milo’ but my husband, who’s from the Alabama Gulf Coast took one look at the Boog and said ‘Can we call him Orange Ruffy?” There is a fish called just that, well, actually an “Orange Roughy’ but as our feline had a coarse and dirty coat, and he looked rough around the edges, the name stuck.
Bobbi kindly arranged for Ruffy to be viewed at Atlas every weekend. We would bring him to a cage the volunteers had set up for him, and place him there. He was a great cat in the car, he didn’t really cry. But he would look at us sadly when we left him there, his sad, gold eyes puzzled. “I thought we were friends, don’t you want me? What have I done?” he seemed to say. My heart would break.
Ruffy, along with my other cat Bella was my comfort during these times. My mom, who we lived with was having some serious health issues and sometimes just having him smooth against my leg was balm for a troubled soul. We hoped he’d get adopted, he was a very loving and sweet cat, and playful, too. When we’d go to pick him up on Sunday afternoons, we’d look at the volunteers hopefully. But Ruffy had no takers.
Til this day, my husband believes that Ruffy put a ‘hoodoo’ out there to assure we’d be his ‘people’. After nearly a year, it became clear that Ruffy was ours. My husband had been accepted at a job in Lower Alabama, and when he went, with the intention of myself and our other cat following when he was settled a month later, Ruffy went with him. I still remember Ruffy in his carrier in the back seat. He didn’t look worried or scared, he looked like he was game for an adventure. James soon came to realize that Ruffy traveled very well, except that he hated Garmin, our GPS. When it spoke, he cried. When James put anything on the radio but classic rock or jazz, Ruffy cried. Ruffy also went on a hunger strike, til James stopped and got a hamburger. Then Ruffy was out of the carrier on his lap, deciding he was hungry after all.
Sadly, the job in Alabama turned bust. The restaurant owner turned out to have been short on funds, and the sheriff closed the restaurant one morning, locking the doors. My husband and his whole crew were told ‘sorry, but he’s done this before, fat chance of getting paid, he owe’s $350,00 to the state of Alabama’ and left standing on the sidewalk. He said the only thing that got him through that day was sitting with Ruffy on his lap, feeding him leftover catfish, and listening to Boog purr. He said that he let Boog out of his carrier in the car while they were resting, and the cat would curl up next to him and purr. He said that the only decent thing about having to return to NY was coming back to me, our other cat Bella, and that Boog appeared content to be back. He didn’t seem to mind, and adjusted to being back in Queens. We didn’t put him back on the porch, we just didn’t need to.
My mom passed away, and Boog seemed to understand the sadness, he clowned and played to cheer us up. After a long and traumatic illness that took it’s toll on us, the pain of James’ losing his job and having trouble finding another, we decided for our anniversary we couldn’t afford much, but very much needed a getaway. We booked a rustic cabin in Gilbert Lake, NY, and being they were pet friendly, took Ruffy along. He loved it. We didn’t let him out of the cabin, as he downright refused to let us put a harness and leash on him, but he loved the large screened in porch, his own room with a large window to look out of (he didn’t have to stay in it, he just liked to sit up on top of the bed and watch out of the window when he was alone) and sitting in front of the fireplace, preferably when he was eating. He slept with us at night, along side us, or at the foot of the bed in front of the fire. We hope when we eventually move South we’ll be able to give Boog that country lifestyle again!
Now, as we prepare to transition to another home yet again, with Boog, Belle and a new kitty we want to take in with us, we’re very happy Ruffy went from our foster cat to our cat and that we belong to him! I would just also encourage anyone contemplating it, to consider adopting a FIV+ cat. Ruffy is healthy and big and happy. Aside from having to have most of his teeth out, which our vet states could be from the FIV+ or from mean living on the streets, the Baboo kitty is a great guy, fun to have around and just plain wonderful. We wouldn’t trade him for a million dollars.
