Boggy George

Bit of an “off brand” update today but it was suggested the story of Boggy George must be told.

After a lot of soul-searching and hand wringing i had my heart set on adopting a cat. I had a few reservations about it, I rent for a start, not the sort of thing you do if you security and disposable income are your bag but needs must. For second, would my housemate be ok with it? Thirdly, am I ready to have another living thing depend on me? I have had cats in the past, but they were only fleeting, usually i was holding them for someone. This would be for realsies.

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I already knew that i wanted an older cat, at least 12 years plus. They can’t compete with a box load of kittens, the pure breeds or the instagramable and the thought of an animal spending its last few years in a cage being gawked at by strangers made my heart hurt. I also knew i wasn’t going to pick one up from Gumtree, i don’t trust people to be honest or truthful.

I was under the impression that Cats Protection  didn’t rehome pets with renters but this turn out not to be the case. I scrolled through their site to find a gloriously awful picture of a black and white cat call George. He was pushed as far to the back of his box as he could manage, flash of the camera highlighting his yellow eyes and giving him the look of a moth-eaten gargoyle. In short, he looked pretty pissed off. Instantly fell in love. 15 years old and spend his entire life with one family who were emigrating. I had to have him.

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The flat passed its check and made contact with the foster carers who were the other side of Bristol. Two buses and nearly 90mins of travelling later i met him. They explained that he had come to Cats Protection 15 years earlier as a kitten and rehomed with his sister who passed away due to cancer a few years before. His mother and siblings were killed by a tractor on the farm he was born on and the farmer thought it best to hand the two surviving kittens over.

As i came into the living room, George ran right up to me and collapsed on the floor for a cuddle, i was besotted! Even after he tried to bite me, twice. I made arrangements to pick him up in a weeks time.

A friend offered me a lift and we headed out on the Sunday morning to get him. He does not like the cat carrier and proceeded to show us this but pissing all over it. Luckily i bought a towel to prevent spillage and he yeowlled in protest the whole way home.

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The first thing he did when we got back to the flat is hide in the bathroom for two hours, hence his name, Boggy George (thank you Beth!). Within a day or two he was settled in, very vocal, very noisy and, sadly covered in fleas. Whilst the flea eradication goes on, and boy are my legs paying for it, i have fallen for this shouty, slightly bogeyed old man. He smells like old furniture and biscuits, loves nothing more than being on someone and having a nap, Dreamies and waking me up at 3am with the song of his people.

Despite knowing full well i only have a few years left with him, i will cherish those.

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If you have room in your life for an older cat, have a look on who they have up for adoption in your area here

4 Replies to “Boggy George”

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