Much love and gratitude to NANCY MURRAY for sponsoring Whitey's Memorial!
Whitey's Four Furry Brothers and One Furry Sister:
To visit Mac's page, click HERE.
To visit Murray's page, click HERE.
To visit Butch's page, click HERE
To visit Earl's page, click HERE.
To visit Samantha's page, click HERE.
No, he was NOT white, except for a tiny patch on his chest. My husband thought it was a great idea to call him Whitey since he was almost entirely coal black. You just have to understand my husband's sense of humor.........
Whitey came to us as a stray in September of 1982, shortly after we had learned that all my tests showed that I could not conceive and after we had learned of a wonderful opportunity to adopt a baby who was to be born in January. I figured the cat was a good way for me to train to take care of someone.
He was a great cat right from the start! Since he had been a stray, he was used to using the outdoors and we didn't have to mess with a litter pan, which had been such a problem in the past with our cats. We cut a pet door through the door from our kitchen into the garage, and one from the back garage door into our fenced back yard, and thus Whitey was free to come and go as he pleased---and he never went far.
We don't know his birthdate for certain, but the vet guessed that he was about 3 months old, so we went with that and assigned him a June birthday.
He was a snuggle bunny and loved to be on our laps. He also loved to follow us when we went for walks, so we had to be careful not to cross any busy streets.
When our adopted daughter arrived in January, he was instantly curious, and had to inspect her. He accepted her immediately as one of the family, and often snuggled up next to her for a nap. He did the same when our son was born the next September, so both children grew up never knowing life without Whitey.
Whitey was extremely tolerant of them, even when they were young and really didn't know how to handle him, and they always adored him.
When our son wanted a puppy when he turned 7 (Whitey was then 8 years old), we were hesitant at first, but the puppy quickly learned that Whitey was the King of the Castle. They eventually even learned to play together and sleep together, becoming good friends.
Whitey began slowing down early in 1999, when he was more than 16 years old, and went into a slow decline. One day that January, it became obvious that he was very sick, as we found him lying out in the garage, soiled and not moving. We called the vet, even though it was a weekend and readily agreed to pay extra for the doctor having to come into the clinic. Robbie, Hamp, and I gently bundled Whitey up in an old baby blanket and took him to the vet's clinic. She was a new vet, but we had been taking Whitey to that same clinic for all his life for all his shots and care.
She examined Whitey and found a great mass in his abdomen, telling us it was probably an advanced cancer and that it would be the kind thing to "put him down." We all took turns holding Whitey and petting him, and even though he was so very sick, he purred for each of us. Then I gently held Whitey as the doctor administered the shot, and continued to hold him, talking to him and petting him, as he closed his eyes for the last time.
Hamp, Robbie, and I were all in tears. I handed Whitey to Robbie to carry back out to the car, and I fished in my purse for my checkbook to pay the doctor. She was in the office and was looking at his large records file. She looked up at me and said, "There won't be any charge." That made me cry even more. It was her first year in practice, and I think she empathized with our great love for Whitey and with the fact that we had kept him well and happy for almost 17 years.
We sadly buried him in our backyard under his favorite tree. He was the first of 4 pets who now reside in the Smith Backyard Pet Cemetery.
Both Whitey and Mac (our tan cat) predeceased Robbie, and I know that he joyfully rejoined them both at Rainbow Bridge. All of them romp happily in heaven's beautiful fields.
Whitey's Four Furry Brothers and One Furry Sister:
To visit Mac's page, click HERE.
To visit Murray's page, click HERE.
To visit Butch's page, click HERE
To visit Earl's page, click HERE.
To visit Samantha's page, click HERE.
No, he was NOT white, except for a tiny patch on his chest. My husband thought it was a great idea to call him Whitey since he was almost entirely coal black. You just have to understand my husband's sense of humor.........
Whitey came to us as a stray in September of 1982, shortly after we had learned that all my tests showed that I could not conceive and after we had learned of a wonderful opportunity to adopt a baby who was to be born in January. I figured the cat was a good way for me to train to take care of someone.
He was a great cat right from the start! Since he had been a stray, he was used to using the outdoors and we didn't have to mess with a litter pan, which had been such a problem in the past with our cats. We cut a pet door through the door from our kitchen into the garage, and one from the back garage door into our fenced back yard, and thus Whitey was free to come and go as he pleased---and he never went far.
We don't know his birthdate for certain, but the vet guessed that he was about 3 months old, so we went with that and assigned him a June birthday.
He was a snuggle bunny and loved to be on our laps. He also loved to follow us when we went for walks, so we had to be careful not to cross any busy streets.
When our adopted daughter arrived in January, he was instantly curious, and had to inspect her. He accepted her immediately as one of the family, and often snuggled up next to her for a nap. He did the same when our son was born the next September, so both children grew up never knowing life without Whitey.
Whitey was extremely tolerant of them, even when they were young and really didn't know how to handle him, and they always adored him.
When our son wanted a puppy when he turned 7 (Whitey was then 8 years old), we were hesitant at first, but the puppy quickly learned that Whitey was the King of the Castle. They eventually even learned to play together and sleep together, becoming good friends.
Whitey began slowing down early in 1999, when he was more than 16 years old, and went into a slow decline. One day that January, it became obvious that he was very sick, as we found him lying out in the garage, soiled and not moving. We called the vet, even though it was a weekend and readily agreed to pay extra for the doctor having to come into the clinic. Robbie, Hamp, and I gently bundled Whitey up in an old baby blanket and took him to the vet's clinic. She was a new vet, but we had been taking Whitey to that same clinic for all his life for all his shots and care.
She examined Whitey and found a great mass in his abdomen, telling us it was probably an advanced cancer and that it would be the kind thing to "put him down." We all took turns holding Whitey and petting him, and even though he was so very sick, he purred for each of us. Then I gently held Whitey as the doctor administered the shot, and continued to hold him, talking to him and petting him, as he closed his eyes for the last time.
Hamp, Robbie, and I were all in tears. I handed Whitey to Robbie to carry back out to the car, and I fished in my purse for my checkbook to pay the doctor. She was in the office and was looking at his large records file. She looked up at me and said, "There won't be any charge." That made me cry even more. It was her first year in practice, and I think she empathized with our great love for Whitey and with the fact that we had kept him well and happy for almost 17 years.
We sadly buried him in our backyard under his favorite tree. He was the first of 4 pets who now reside in the Smith Backyard Pet Cemetery.
Both Whitey and Mac (our tan cat) predeceased Robbie, and I know that he joyfully rejoined them both at Rainbow Bridge. All of them romp happily in heaven's beautiful fields.
Much love and gratitude to NANCY MURRAY for sponsoring Whitey's Memorial!
Whitey's Four Furry Brothers and One Furry Sister:
To visit Mac's page, click HERE.
To visit Murray's page, click HERE.
To visit Butch's page, click HERE
To visit Earl's page, click HERE.
To visit Samantha's page, click HERE.
No, he was NOT white, except for a tiny patch on his chest. My husband thought it was a great idea to call him Whitey since he was almost entirely coal black. You just have to understand my husband's sense of humor.........
Whitey came to us as a stray in September of 1982, shortly after we had learned that all my tests showed that I could not conceive and after we had learned of a wonderful opportunity to adopt a baby who was to be born in January. I figured the cat was a good way for me to train to take care of someone.
He was a great cat right from the start! Since he had been a stray, he was used to using the outdoors and we didn't have to mess with a litter pan, which had been such a problem in the past with our cats. We cut a pet door through the door from our kitchen into the garage, and one from the back garage door into our fenced back yard, and thus Whitey was free to come and go as he pleased---and he never went far.
We don't know his birthdate for certain, but the vet guessed that he was about 3 months old, so we went with that and assigned him a June birthday.
He was a snuggle bunny and loved to be on our laps. He also loved to follow us when we went for walks, so we had to be careful not to cross any busy streets.
When our adopted daughter arrived in January, he was instantly curious, and had to inspect her. He accepted her immediately as one of the family, and often snuggled up next to her for a nap. He did the same when our son was born the next September, so both children grew up never knowing life without Whitey.
Whitey was extremely tolerant of them, even when they were young and really didn't know how to handle him, and they always adored him.
When our son wanted a puppy when he turned 7 (Whitey was then 8 years old), we were hesitant at first, but the puppy quickly learned that Whitey was the King of the Castle. They eventually even learned to play together and sleep together, becoming good friends.
Whitey began slowing down early in 1999, when he was more than 16 years old, and went into a slow decline. One day that January, it became obvious that he was very sick, as we found him lying out in the garage, soiled and not moving. We called the vet, even though it was a weekend and readily agreed to pay extra for the doctor having to come into the clinic. Robbie, Hamp, and I gently bundled Whitey up in an old baby blanket and took him to the vet's clinic. She was a new vet, but we had been taking Whitey to that same clinic for all his life for all his shots and care.
She examined Whitey and found a great mass in his abdomen, telling us it was probably an advanced cancer and that it would be the kind thing to "put him down." We all took turns holding Whitey and petting him, and even though he was so very sick, he purred for each of us. Then I gently held Whitey as the doctor administered the shot, and continued to hold him, talking to him and petting him, as he closed his eyes for the last time.
Hamp, Robbie, and I were all in tears. I handed Whitey to Robbie to carry back out to the car, and I fished in my purse for my checkbook to pay the doctor. She was in the office and was looking at his large records file. She looked up at me and said, "There won't be any charge." That made me cry even more. It was her first year in practice, and I think she empathized with our great love for Whitey and with the fact that we had kept him well and happy for almost 17 years.
We sadly buried him in our backyard under his favorite tree. He was the first of 4 pets who now reside in the Smith Backyard Pet Cemetery.
Both Whitey and Mac (our tan cat) predeceased Robbie, and I know that he joyfully rejoined them both at Rainbow Bridge. All of them romp happily in heaven's beautiful fields.
Whitey's Four Furry Brothers and One Furry Sister:
To visit Mac's page, click HERE.
To visit Murray's page, click HERE.
To visit Butch's page, click HERE
To visit Earl's page, click HERE.
To visit Samantha's page, click HERE.
No, he was NOT white, except for a tiny patch on his chest. My husband thought it was a great idea to call him Whitey since he was almost entirely coal black. You just have to understand my husband's sense of humor.........
Whitey came to us as a stray in September of 1982, shortly after we had learned that all my tests showed that I could not conceive and after we had learned of a wonderful opportunity to adopt a baby who was to be born in January. I figured the cat was a good way for me to train to take care of someone.
He was a great cat right from the start! Since he had been a stray, he was used to using the outdoors and we didn't have to mess with a litter pan, which had been such a problem in the past with our cats. We cut a pet door through the door from our kitchen into the garage, and one from the back garage door into our fenced back yard, and thus Whitey was free to come and go as he pleased---and he never went far.
We don't know his birthdate for certain, but the vet guessed that he was about 3 months old, so we went with that and assigned him a June birthday.
He was a snuggle bunny and loved to be on our laps. He also loved to follow us when we went for walks, so we had to be careful not to cross any busy streets.
When our adopted daughter arrived in January, he was instantly curious, and had to inspect her. He accepted her immediately as one of the family, and often snuggled up next to her for a nap. He did the same when our son was born the next September, so both children grew up never knowing life without Whitey.
Whitey was extremely tolerant of them, even when they were young and really didn't know how to handle him, and they always adored him.
When our son wanted a puppy when he turned 7 (Whitey was then 8 years old), we were hesitant at first, but the puppy quickly learned that Whitey was the King of the Castle. They eventually even learned to play together and sleep together, becoming good friends.
Whitey began slowing down early in 1999, when he was more than 16 years old, and went into a slow decline. One day that January, it became obvious that he was very sick, as we found him lying out in the garage, soiled and not moving. We called the vet, even though it was a weekend and readily agreed to pay extra for the doctor having to come into the clinic. Robbie, Hamp, and I gently bundled Whitey up in an old baby blanket and took him to the vet's clinic. She was a new vet, but we had been taking Whitey to that same clinic for all his life for all his shots and care.
She examined Whitey and found a great mass in his abdomen, telling us it was probably an advanced cancer and that it would be the kind thing to "put him down." We all took turns holding Whitey and petting him, and even though he was so very sick, he purred for each of us. Then I gently held Whitey as the doctor administered the shot, and continued to hold him, talking to him and petting him, as he closed his eyes for the last time.
Hamp, Robbie, and I were all in tears. I handed Whitey to Robbie to carry back out to the car, and I fished in my purse for my checkbook to pay the doctor. She was in the office and was looking at his large records file. She looked up at me and said, "There won't be any charge." That made me cry even more. It was her first year in practice, and I think she empathized with our great love for Whitey and with the fact that we had kept him well and happy for almost 17 years.
We sadly buried him in our backyard under his favorite tree. He was the first of 4 pets who now reside in the Smith Backyard Pet Cemetery.
Both Whitey and Mac (our tan cat) predeceased Robbie, and I know that he joyfully rejoined them both at Rainbow Bridge. All of them romp happily in heaven's beautiful fields.
