Napoleon

Napoleon was a siamese cross. He had thick, medium fur and was chunky. However, he had the crossed blue eyes and seal point coloring. There were no stripes or white patches in his coloring. His nose was dark, not pink. His tongue was dark pink.

I first met Napoleon when we had stopped at an aquaintance of my husband's for something, and the back door was open on the car, where I was sitting. He climbed into the car and onto my lap. Napoleon got comfortable in my arms, feet up in the air, purred and went to sleep. I'd never seen anything like it. He was neutered, and very healthy. He'd picked his person. Me.

My husband was exasperated, but I wouldn't let him move Napopeon, or toss him out of the car. We drove home and Napoleon didn't twitch a whisker. When we arrived home, some 30 minutes later, Napoleon opened his eyes, rolled over and marched into the house like he owned it. He never went around to sniff and get aquainted with the other cats and dogs. He acted like he knew everything, and it was all familiar. He slept with me every night.

At the time, I worked downtown, about 45 minutes away. He met me at the door every evening, and looked at me like I was a goddess. He adored me. It wasn't the catfood, because we only had dry food. It wasn't my husband, who brought me home. Once Napoleon had greeted me, he went about his cat business with the other animals. He was always there, in the background. Every time I looked in his direction, he was watching me with the most profound look of love on his face.

One day, when I got home, something was wrong with Napoleon. He didn't meet me at the door. I heard this pitiful cry coming from my room. It was Napoleon. He couldn't walk, but was doing his level best to drag himself to me. I stroked him and he cried in pain. I got him to the vet, and they told me his spine was broken. He would be dead in a day and was in agony. We drugged him up and took him home. Napoleon died in my lap within hours.

Napoleon was my first experience with a cat who loved so completely. I cried for days, unconsolable.

Of course, my husband didn't care for this behavior, so he told me that Napoleon would come back to me in another form. I was so sad, I grabbed at that and stopped crying.

I never got a photo of Napoleon. Even if I had, it would be long gone. So many things are gone, now. But Napoleon did came back. In Beasley.