MyTitan (GA)
Member Since 2017
*Warning* long story (confession) ahead! I knew I had to save this story for a day after Titan had left us because if I posted it while he was still active here on the FDMB y'all would have taken my kitty parent license away. It's a story of love and redemption and proof that our kitties look out for us even after they cross the rainbow bridge.
It all starts back in 2007 when our home was down to one cat, Ratty (yes his real name) who was going on 20 years old and a surviving diabetic kitty of 12 years. His brother Floyd had left us about a year earlier also a diabetic kitty. Floyd was Paula's soulmate and losing him absolutely devastated her. She was very ill from her auto immune disease and the heartache of loosing Floyd just compounded her pain. We live in a rural area and have an abundance of wildlife and feral cats. Unbeknownst to us a momma kitty was raising a litter in our old shed and by the tyme I discovered them they were several weeks old and in need of a little TLC. We moved them into the house and got proper nutrition into momma which helped the litter. When it came tyme to wean the kitties we kept them inside and put her outside with the intent of having her spayed soon. Right away the neighborhood tom cat showed up. He was one of the prettiest cats I had ever seen, big with a glossy gray and white coat. For a feral cat he was in good shape. My attempts to tame him though fell be the wayside quickly. He was vicious with a temper to match. I have a scar on my arm to remind me of him. He took over the porch and would not let us on it to enter or leave the house. I was worried about Paula's safety when I was gone to work. My only choice was to remove him with the help of my .22 rifle. I did but it was not an easy decision. With that crisis averted I knew I needed to get the momma cat spayed quickly to avert any other tommy issues. But I wasn't fast enuf. Next day a second tommy shows up. Paula had seen him in the back yard and commented on how we had another "visitor". A much younger one, not mean at all but you couldn't get your hands on him. He was jet black and thin. I cursed the Gods above for cornering me into another decision to dispatch a second feral tommy. Paula was in town when my opportunity came. He was sitting by the tree, not more than ten feet from me when I pulled the trigger........I missed. He jumped up and ran for the woods. I yelled at him never to come back and hoped that would be the case. I never told Paula of my attempt. Fast forward about 4 months. I get home from work at 11pm, it's late fall and cold out. I walk up onto the porch and there is that black tommy staring at me, Paula has made him a cat kennel with blankets and by the looks of it she has fed him. He is thin and looking very haggard plus there is an issue with his face. Looks like he's been injured and his lower jaw is a bit offset. Paula is up waiting for me to explain how this cat came to be on the porch and we have to do something to help him, looks like he's been hit by a car or something. I bite my tongue and agree. We name him Titan because Paula thought he came from the neighbors farm and thats what they had called a black tommy out in their barn. After a few vet visits to clean him up, vaccinations neutering and deworming its tyme to move him from the garage/shop and into the house. We open the back door, he waltzes in walks to the bedroom, jumps on the bed curls up and goes to sleep. Just like he has been living here all his life. Eventually the truth comes out just how he got his wonky jaw. We are at vet office on one of his follow up visits and the good Dr says she thinks she can fix that wonky jaw if the injury is not to old. I go cold and Paula can tell I'm hiding something. Right there in the vet office I have to confess that it was not a new injury but the result of a bad shot. Turns out the bullet grazed the underside of his jaw, broke it slightly and it reset itself slightly askew. The injury never hindered him in anyway. He had full motion could eat and yawn with no issues. Turns out the name Titan was preordained. All of our locks on the house are Schlage "Titan" locks and Paula says that proves Titan owns the house because his name is on it. Her theory is that although I was acquitted on the attempted murder charge ( no witnesses) I was found guilty in the civil suit and Titan was awarded the house as compensation. We have no doubt that Titan was brought to us through the intervention of Floyd from across the rainbow bridge. I am sure he deflected the bullet which set in motion our 11 year journey with Titan. Paula was in need of a best buddy to be with her through her upcoming surgery and recovery, Floyd knew this and sent the best medicine available. His name was Titan and he will be sorely missed for very long tyme.
It all starts back in 2007 when our home was down to one cat, Ratty (yes his real name) who was going on 20 years old and a surviving diabetic kitty of 12 years. His brother Floyd had left us about a year earlier also a diabetic kitty. Floyd was Paula's soulmate and losing him absolutely devastated her. She was very ill from her auto immune disease and the heartache of loosing Floyd just compounded her pain. We live in a rural area and have an abundance of wildlife and feral cats. Unbeknownst to us a momma kitty was raising a litter in our old shed and by the tyme I discovered them they were several weeks old and in need of a little TLC. We moved them into the house and got proper nutrition into momma which helped the litter. When it came tyme to wean the kitties we kept them inside and put her outside with the intent of having her spayed soon. Right away the neighborhood tom cat showed up. He was one of the prettiest cats I had ever seen, big with a glossy gray and white coat. For a feral cat he was in good shape. My attempts to tame him though fell be the wayside quickly. He was vicious with a temper to match. I have a scar on my arm to remind me of him. He took over the porch and would not let us on it to enter or leave the house. I was worried about Paula's safety when I was gone to work. My only choice was to remove him with the help of my .22 rifle. I did but it was not an easy decision. With that crisis averted I knew I needed to get the momma cat spayed quickly to avert any other tommy issues. But I wasn't fast enuf. Next day a second tommy shows up. Paula had seen him in the back yard and commented on how we had another "visitor". A much younger one, not mean at all but you couldn't get your hands on him. He was jet black and thin. I cursed the Gods above for cornering me into another decision to dispatch a second feral tommy. Paula was in town when my opportunity came. He was sitting by the tree, not more than ten feet from me when I pulled the trigger........I missed. He jumped up and ran for the woods. I yelled at him never to come back and hoped that would be the case. I never told Paula of my attempt. Fast forward about 4 months. I get home from work at 11pm, it's late fall and cold out. I walk up onto the porch and there is that black tommy staring at me, Paula has made him a cat kennel with blankets and by the looks of it she has fed him. He is thin and looking very haggard plus there is an issue with his face. Looks like he's been injured and his lower jaw is a bit offset. Paula is up waiting for me to explain how this cat came to be on the porch and we have to do something to help him, looks like he's been hit by a car or something. I bite my tongue and agree. We name him Titan because Paula thought he came from the neighbors farm and thats what they had called a black tommy out in their barn. After a few vet visits to clean him up, vaccinations neutering and deworming its tyme to move him from the garage/shop and into the house. We open the back door, he waltzes in walks to the bedroom, jumps on the bed curls up and goes to sleep. Just like he has been living here all his life. Eventually the truth comes out just how he got his wonky jaw. We are at vet office on one of his follow up visits and the good Dr says she thinks she can fix that wonky jaw if the injury is not to old. I go cold and Paula can tell I'm hiding something. Right there in the vet office I have to confess that it was not a new injury but the result of a bad shot. Turns out the bullet grazed the underside of his jaw, broke it slightly and it reset itself slightly askew. The injury never hindered him in anyway. He had full motion could eat and yawn with no issues. Turns out the name Titan was preordained. All of our locks on the house are Schlage "Titan" locks and Paula says that proves Titan owns the house because his name is on it. Her theory is that although I was acquitted on the attempted murder charge ( no witnesses) I was found guilty in the civil suit and Titan was awarded the house as compensation. We have no doubt that Titan was brought to us through the intervention of Floyd from across the rainbow bridge. I am sure he deflected the bullet which set in motion our 11 year journey with Titan. Paula was in need of a best buddy to be with her through her upcoming surgery and recovery, Floyd knew this and sent the best medicine available. His name was Titan and he will be sorely missed for very long tyme.
