I've always loved "Lord of the Rings" ever since I read the books as a teen. When the movies came out, I was grateful that I'd lived long enough to see them. So in 2004 I went to our local animal shelter in search of a new love. I had decided that I would look for a gray and white kitten and call him Gandalf, after the wizard in LOTRs. There were no gray and white kittens at that time but there WAS a mixed up white with brown tabby patches and beige and gray spots little kitten begging for my attention. It was quite obvious that he did not hold still while the angels were painting him. He also did not hold still in the cat room and started to climb up my pants. I picked him up and looked into the most beautiful almond shaped green eyes. Then I did the woman thing and snuggled him to my chest and he did the man thing and charmed me by reaching his paws up and hugging my neck. That was it! A brown and white and beige and gray and black kitty could be a Gandalf. Nobody got it anyway.(If you didn't see the movie, Gandalf goes from gray to white).
He was an adorable playful kitten. He grew up with my then one year old granddaughter. For some reason he preferred her baby toys and vice versa and they would swap toys whenever I wasn't looking. They both enjoyed climbing up my Christmas tree and shattering ornaments. That's when I discovered plastic. At some point they outgrew each other, probably when his claws became too rough or she would grab his tail and try to use him as a pull toy. Come to think of it, whenever she would come to visit, Gandalf need only to hear her voice and off he'd run, not to be seen again until she'd left.
By that time, Gandalf had me completely trained. There was to be no more lovey-dovey like the hug around the neck he'd reeled me in with. He would let me know when I could scratch his ears or cheeks. He did not like to be picked up and would only drink water fresh out of the tap. He would jump up on the kitchen or a bathroom sink and stare back expectantly until someone noticed and turned the faucet on to just the right stream. He also liked to lay on fresh newspaper and every morning he would expect me to spread the sports section out on the bed for him. He trained me to do this by plopping down on the section I currently had in my hands!
Gandalf was no lightweight either!(My husband who I converted into a cat person snuck him too many treats). That's why he got the nickname "Fat Boy". There was a time when I was on immunosuppressive therapy and as a result I contracted pneumonia several times. Preferring to convalesce at home, I would feel a crushing sensation on my chest-no, not a heart attack or pneumonia-Gandalf! That cat knew when I was sick and would come lay on my chest and watch me go in and out of sleep. I would awaken to beautiful almond shaped green eyes staring into mine, filled with concern. He did not doze but kept a watchful eye on me. I've often wondered if the warmth of his body may have healed me or was it his love and perseverance? And although he was heavy, it didn't seem to interfere with my breathing. Of course it was back to lovey-dovey on his terms once I had healed.
Fat Boy Gandalf was also a talker, but only when upset. The personnel at the vets office would have a good laugh when they'd pull him out of the carrier and he would yell "NOOO!NOOO!NOOOO!". Then when he'd get his vaccinations he'd yell,"OW!OW!OW!" And I can't tell you what he said when they took his temperature you know where. They called him, "Talking Gandalf". Otherwise you never heard a peep out of him. When he needed something, he would patiently sit and wait, boring his gaze through you until you noticed. He was also good at letting me know, that me going out of town displeased him immensely, by following me from room to room and sitting with his back to me. This went on for about three days, then I could scratch his ears and cheeks again.
Gandalf was a creature of habit. He liked going out at night and lying on top of one of our vehicles. He never wandered. But sadly, one night he disappeared. We searched everywhere for him. Then other flyers started going up in the neighborhood, other cats and small dogs. It was discovered that a pack of coyotes had moved into the area and had killed cats and small dogs and piled them up by the electric towers. I think that may be what happened to my Gandalf. I love you Fat Boy Gandalf, always.
October 2016-I have now been joined at Rainbow Bridge by my brother, Reagan
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THIS MEMORIAL IS SPONSORED BY EARTH ANGEL-C
THANK YOU CAROLYN!
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He was an adorable playful kitten. He grew up with my then one year old granddaughter. For some reason he preferred her baby toys and vice versa and they would swap toys whenever I wasn't looking. They both enjoyed climbing up my Christmas tree and shattering ornaments. That's when I discovered plastic. At some point they outgrew each other, probably when his claws became too rough or she would grab his tail and try to use him as a pull toy. Come to think of it, whenever she would come to visit, Gandalf need only to hear her voice and off he'd run, not to be seen again until she'd left.
By that time, Gandalf had me completely trained. There was to be no more lovey-dovey like the hug around the neck he'd reeled me in with. He would let me know when I could scratch his ears or cheeks. He did not like to be picked up and would only drink water fresh out of the tap. He would jump up on the kitchen or a bathroom sink and stare back expectantly until someone noticed and turned the faucet on to just the right stream. He also liked to lay on fresh newspaper and every morning he would expect me to spread the sports section out on the bed for him. He trained me to do this by plopping down on the section I currently had in my hands!
Gandalf was no lightweight either!(My husband who I converted into a cat person snuck him too many treats). That's why he got the nickname "Fat Boy". There was a time when I was on immunosuppressive therapy and as a result I contracted pneumonia several times. Preferring to convalesce at home, I would feel a crushing sensation on my chest-no, not a heart attack or pneumonia-Gandalf! That cat knew when I was sick and would come lay on my chest and watch me go in and out of sleep. I would awaken to beautiful almond shaped green eyes staring into mine, filled with concern. He did not doze but kept a watchful eye on me. I've often wondered if the warmth of his body may have healed me or was it his love and perseverance? And although he was heavy, it didn't seem to interfere with my breathing. Of course it was back to lovey-dovey on his terms once I had healed.
Fat Boy Gandalf was also a talker, but only when upset. The personnel at the vets office would have a good laugh when they'd pull him out of the carrier and he would yell "NOOO!NOOO!NOOOO!". Then when he'd get his vaccinations he'd yell,"OW!OW!OW!" And I can't tell you what he said when they took his temperature you know where. They called him, "Talking Gandalf". Otherwise you never heard a peep out of him. When he needed something, he would patiently sit and wait, boring his gaze through you until you noticed. He was also good at letting me know, that me going out of town displeased him immensely, by following me from room to room and sitting with his back to me. This went on for about three days, then I could scratch his ears and cheeks again.
Gandalf was a creature of habit. He liked going out at night and lying on top of one of our vehicles. He never wandered. But sadly, one night he disappeared. We searched everywhere for him. Then other flyers started going up in the neighborhood, other cats and small dogs. It was discovered that a pack of coyotes had moved into the area and had killed cats and small dogs and piled them up by the electric towers. I think that may be what happened to my Gandalf. I love you Fat Boy Gandalf, always.
October 2016-I have now been joined at Rainbow Bridge by my brother, Reagan
����������������������������
THIS MEMORIAL IS SPONSORED BY EARTH ANGEL-C
THANK YOU CAROLYN!
����������������������������
I've always loved "Lord of the Rings" ever since I read the books as a teen. When the movies came out, I was grateful that I'd lived long enough to see them. So in 2004 I went to our local animal shelter in search of a new love. I had decided that I would look for a gray and white kitten and call him Gandalf, after the wizard in LOTRs. There were no gray and white kittens at that time but there WAS a mixed up white with brown tabby patches and beige and gray spots little kitten begging for my attention. It was quite obvious that he did not hold still while the angels were painting him. He also did not hold still in the cat room and started to climb up my pants. I picked him up and looked into the most beautiful almond shaped green eyes. Then I did the woman thing and snuggled him to my chest and he did the man thing and charmed me by reaching his paws up and hugging my neck. That was it! A brown and white and beige and gray and black kitty could be a Gandalf. Nobody got it anyway.(If you didn't see the movie, Gandalf goes from gray to white).
He was an adorable playful kitten. He grew up with my then one year old granddaughter. For some reason he preferred her baby toys and vice versa and they would swap toys whenever I wasn't looking. They both enjoyed climbing up my Christmas tree and shattering ornaments. That's when I discovered plastic. At some point they outgrew each other, probably when his claws became too rough or she would grab his tail and try to use him as a pull toy. Come to think of it, whenever she would come to visit, Gandalf need only to hear her voice and off he'd run, not to be seen again until she'd left.
By that time, Gandalf had me completely trained. There was to be no more lovey-dovey like the hug around the neck he'd reeled me in with. He would let me know when I could scratch his ears or cheeks. He did not like to be picked up and would only drink water fresh out of the tap. He would jump up on the kitchen or a bathroom sink and stare back expectantly until someone noticed and turned the faucet on to just the right stream. He also liked to lay on fresh newspaper and every morning he would expect me to spread the sports section out on the bed for him. He trained me to do this by plopping down on the section I currently had in my hands!
Gandalf was no lightweight either!(My husband who I converted into a cat person snuck him too many treats). That's why he got the nickname "Fat Boy". There was a time when I was on immunosuppressive therapy and as a result I contracted pneumonia several times. Preferring to convalesce at home, I would feel a crushing sensation on my chest-no, not a heart attack or pneumonia-Gandalf! That cat knew when I was sick and would come lay on my chest and watch me go in and out of sleep. I would awaken to beautiful almond shaped green eyes staring into mine, filled with concern. He did not doze but kept a watchful eye on me. I've often wondered if the warmth of his body may have healed me or was it his love and perseverance? And although he was heavy, it didn't seem to interfere with my breathing. Of course it was back to lovey-dovey on his terms once I had healed.
Fat Boy Gandalf was also a talker, but only when upset. The personnel at the vets office would have a good laugh when they'd pull him out of the carrier and he would yell "NOOO!NOOO!NOOOO!". Then when he'd get his vaccinations he'd yell,"OW!OW!OW!" And I can't tell you what he said when they took his temperature you know where. They called him, "Talking Gandalf". Otherwise you never heard a peep out of him. When he needed something, he would patiently sit and wait, boring his gaze through you until you noticed. He was also good at letting me know, that me going out of town displeased him immensely, by following me from room to room and sitting with his back to me. This went on for about three days, then I could scratch his ears and cheeks again.
Gandalf was a creature of habit. He liked going out at night and lying on top of one of our vehicles. He never wandered. But sadly, one night he disappeared. We searched everywhere for him. Then other flyers started going up in the neighborhood, other cats and small dogs. It was discovered that a pack of coyotes had moved into the area and had killed cats and small dogs and piled them up by the electric towers. I think that may be what happened to my Gandalf. I love you Fat Boy Gandalf, always.
October 2016-I have now been joined at Rainbow Bridge by my brother, Reagan
����������������������������
THIS MEMORIAL IS SPONSORED BY EARTH ANGEL-C
THANK YOU CAROLYN!
����������������������������
He was an adorable playful kitten. He grew up with my then one year old granddaughter. For some reason he preferred her baby toys and vice versa and they would swap toys whenever I wasn't looking. They both enjoyed climbing up my Christmas tree and shattering ornaments. That's when I discovered plastic. At some point they outgrew each other, probably when his claws became too rough or she would grab his tail and try to use him as a pull toy. Come to think of it, whenever she would come to visit, Gandalf need only to hear her voice and off he'd run, not to be seen again until she'd left.
By that time, Gandalf had me completely trained. There was to be no more lovey-dovey like the hug around the neck he'd reeled me in with. He would let me know when I could scratch his ears or cheeks. He did not like to be picked up and would only drink water fresh out of the tap. He would jump up on the kitchen or a bathroom sink and stare back expectantly until someone noticed and turned the faucet on to just the right stream. He also liked to lay on fresh newspaper and every morning he would expect me to spread the sports section out on the bed for him. He trained me to do this by plopping down on the section I currently had in my hands!
Gandalf was no lightweight either!(My husband who I converted into a cat person snuck him too many treats). That's why he got the nickname "Fat Boy". There was a time when I was on immunosuppressive therapy and as a result I contracted pneumonia several times. Preferring to convalesce at home, I would feel a crushing sensation on my chest-no, not a heart attack or pneumonia-Gandalf! That cat knew when I was sick and would come lay on my chest and watch me go in and out of sleep. I would awaken to beautiful almond shaped green eyes staring into mine, filled with concern. He did not doze but kept a watchful eye on me. I've often wondered if the warmth of his body may have healed me or was it his love and perseverance? And although he was heavy, it didn't seem to interfere with my breathing. Of course it was back to lovey-dovey on his terms once I had healed.
Fat Boy Gandalf was also a talker, but only when upset. The personnel at the vets office would have a good laugh when they'd pull him out of the carrier and he would yell "NOOO!NOOO!NOOOO!". Then when he'd get his vaccinations he'd yell,"OW!OW!OW!" And I can't tell you what he said when they took his temperature you know where. They called him, "Talking Gandalf". Otherwise you never heard a peep out of him. When he needed something, he would patiently sit and wait, boring his gaze through you until you noticed. He was also good at letting me know, that me going out of town displeased him immensely, by following me from room to room and sitting with his back to me. This went on for about three days, then I could scratch his ears and cheeks again.
Gandalf was a creature of habit. He liked going out at night and lying on top of one of our vehicles. He never wandered. But sadly, one night he disappeared. We searched everywhere for him. Then other flyers started going up in the neighborhood, other cats and small dogs. It was discovered that a pack of coyotes had moved into the area and had killed cats and small dogs and piled them up by the electric towers. I think that may be what happened to my Gandalf. I love you Fat Boy Gandalf, always.
October 2016-I have now been joined at Rainbow Bridge by my brother, Reagan
����������������������������
THIS MEMORIAL IS SPONSORED BY EARTH ANGEL-C
THANK YOU CAROLYN!
����������������������������
