Depending on who you ask, the resident cat who rules the house on Sunset Beach is known as Fortitude, Moochie, Herekittykittykitty, or sometimes Gitouttahere!. We just call him 'Tude. I published a previous post about him last February which best describes his feral little self.
Of course, being in Hawaii is wonderful, but unfortunately it means being without the dogs I love, a hardship at best. However, if there's an animal more than able to stand in for all of them put together, it's the 'Tude. Therefore, when I'm there, he is "my" cat. As long as I fork over whatever's on my fork, he's willing to be the littlest Big Dog I know. A real go-along-ta-git-along kind of guy. But I know nothing else about him. I don't know where he comes from, how old he is, who else he dates... Nothing except that he has a strong, if somewhat demanding, personality.
Yesterday, I heard that the people who were there just a few months ago, the people who know and love him as "Moochie" miss him and want to know where he is. My heart sank. Oh my, so do I. Even though he has more than enough good sense to survive, I know being feral is a very hard life, and in spite of his gumption, even a cat with so much fortitude has his limits.
Well, I've decided that his Moochie mom simply failed to come up with da kine of salmon pate that he likes. I'm going to take a deep breath and expect he'll greet us in January, yowling, "Where the hell have you been?!"
Why do I feel like my dog just died?