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Once upon a time (17 years ago), in a faraway land (New Jersey), I adopted a 7-month-old cat named Bootsie.
I saw this picture and fell in love (ymmv):
The first night I brought him home to my apartment he stepped sideways into a alternate dimension and disappeared. Or, you know, found a hiding place so good I didn't even realize it existed.
(The chest of drawers on the right has some empty space under the bottom drawer apparently.)
But he settled in pretty quickly and made himself comfortable.
It's important to note that Bootie's mother had distemper while pregnant, and the fever she had while he was in utero fried his brain a little bit. He had mild cerebellar hypoplasia which affected his balance and mobility (he had a kind of marching stompy walk and fell over a lot). I had to custom make a litter box by getting a big storage bin and cutting a hole in the front with my dad's jigsaw. That way he could lean against the walls if he lost his balance instead of falling down into his deposits (he had diarrhea from worms when I first got him! It was not fun). I also wound up using my clamshell boxmaking engineering skills from work (scraps of bookcloth and 8-ply matboard were also provided by work) to construct a set of stairs for him to use to climb up onto the bed.
He was technically able to jump up onto the bed, but tended to keep going and fall off the other side. He was also prone to using walls to stop himself while running around.
While I wasn't super keen on his name at first (but had already been calling him that enough that it would have been weird to change it), I eventually came to the conclusion that it fit him especially in light of his disability. "These Boots Are Made For Walking" by Nancy Sinatra became his theme song, and I even have a recording of me singing a parody version (lyrics by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flaxeloquent) where Bootsie contributes a small mew.
His favorite toy was a small articulated teddy bear (lower right) that he stole off my bedside table. I put it back on the bedside table, and he stole it again. Rinse*, repeat, and eventually the bear was his. (We'll just pretend that was his auntie's intention all along.)
*This included literal rinsing-- he used to dunk it in his water bowl.
Over the course of his life he survived 4 interstate moves and 3 local ones.
He was extremely skilled at both sleeping and snuggling.
Sometimes both at once: a multitasker!
He was capable of great silliness:
And great beauty:
He had a variety of health problems which included being a ribbon-eater, urinary crystals, aural hematoma, and acute pancreatitis that led to him getting diabetes a few years ago.
This is early days of his sad little cauliflower ear:
(Remember when I mentioned him jumping onto the bed and falling off the other side? Pretty sure that's what caused the hematoma. The bed was kind of close to a wall in that apartment.)
It looks less pitiful in this more recent pic (still my phone background):
Bootsie and I were together for 96.8% of his life and 39.6% of mine (thus far).
We had cats in my family growing up-- two of which I took with me to my first apartment. Bootsie was the first cat who was only mine and fully my responsibility.
He was my only cat and I was his only person.
March 2008 - August 2025
These boots were made for walkin' and that's just what they did.
I saw this picture and fell in love (ymmv):
The first night I brought him home to my apartment he stepped sideways into a alternate dimension and disappeared. Or, you know, found a hiding place so good I didn't even realize it existed.
(The chest of drawers on the right has some empty space under the bottom drawer apparently.)
But he settled in pretty quickly and made himself comfortable.
It's important to note that Bootie's mother had distemper while pregnant, and the fever she had while he was in utero fried his brain a little bit. He had mild cerebellar hypoplasia which affected his balance and mobility (he had a kind of marching stompy walk and fell over a lot). I had to custom make a litter box by getting a big storage bin and cutting a hole in the front with my dad's jigsaw. That way he could lean against the walls if he lost his balance instead of falling down into his deposits (he had diarrhea from worms when I first got him! It was not fun). I also wound up using my clamshell boxmaking engineering skills from work (scraps of bookcloth and 8-ply matboard were also provided by work) to construct a set of stairs for him to use to climb up onto the bed.
He was technically able to jump up onto the bed, but tended to keep going and fall off the other side. He was also prone to using walls to stop himself while running around.
While I wasn't super keen on his name at first (but had already been calling him that enough that it would have been weird to change it), I eventually came to the conclusion that it fit him especially in light of his disability. "These Boots Are Made For Walking" by Nancy Sinatra became his theme song, and I even have a recording of me singing a parody version (lyrics by
flaxeloquent) where Bootsie contributes a small mew.His favorite toy was a small articulated teddy bear (lower right) that he stole off my bedside table. I put it back on the bedside table, and he stole it again. Rinse*, repeat, and eventually the bear was his. (We'll just pretend that was his auntie's intention all along.)
*This included literal rinsing-- he used to dunk it in his water bowl.
Over the course of his life he survived 4 interstate moves and 3 local ones.
He was extremely skilled at both sleeping and snuggling.
Sometimes both at once: a multitasker!
He was capable of great silliness:
And great beauty:
He had a variety of health problems which included being a ribbon-eater, urinary crystals, aural hematoma, and acute pancreatitis that led to him getting diabetes a few years ago.
This is early days of his sad little cauliflower ear:
(Remember when I mentioned him jumping onto the bed and falling off the other side? Pretty sure that's what caused the hematoma. The bed was kind of close to a wall in that apartment.)
It looks less pitiful in this more recent pic (still my phone background):
Bootsie and I were together for 96.8% of his life and 39.6% of mine (thus far).
We had cats in my family growing up-- two of which I took with me to my first apartment. Bootsie was the first cat who was only mine and fully my responsibility.
He was my only cat and I was his only person.
March 2008 - August 2025
These boots were made for walkin' and that's just what they did.
