Gone too soon, precious little one

I took care of Lucifer for a few weeks in 2005 and 2006, when he had nowhere to go. He was probably about four weeks old—if he’d been much younger, I doubt he would have survived under my care. He developed a digestive problem and I had to learn to squirt medicine into his mouth with a dropper. He was mischievous and had too much energy for me—once, in the kitchen, he climbed up my pant leg and landed on my shoulder.

I didn’t think I was in any position to consider adopting an animal, and the local rescue I contacted was already full, so I planned to deliver him to a no-kill shelter in the country where I was staying. But he’d be an outdoor cat, and the shelter’s location was so remote that vets in the area weren’t used to treating cats and dogs. When another animal person offered to adopt him and provide an indoor home, it was a miracle.

But the adopter didn’t keep in touch. Between 2008 and 2013, I heard nothing. Then I got an update informing me that Lucifer had been sick but had recovered, and he was still happy in the same home.

I didn’t see the 2013 message until 2015 because it had gone to an old email address that was completely clogged with mailing list messages. When I saw it, I wrote back and got no reply.

This week at work I found two more messages in the same old disused account. One was dated August 2016 and the other was dated January 2017. There was no mention of my 2015 message, which must have gone into the adopter’s spam folder. One message seemed to be alluding to another health scare and another email about Lucifer, which I never saw.

Lucifer died a year ago, less than three weeks after Bangsiri. He was only eleven and his kidneys were failing. I sent a condolence message, thanking the adopter for giving Lucifer a good home, but it probably went into a spam folder too.

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