Bushy In A Box

In 2004 friend brought me a tiny kitten from a farm to help me heal from the loss of my previous cat Mighty. He was so young he still had bright blue eyes, so I called him Brite Eyes. He had fleas, parasites, etc. so I immediately took him to the vet. The vet instantly saw the word 'sucker' written on my forehead, and told me he was too young to be alone. He brought me into the kitten room, and there was Bushy Tail. He was just the most beautiful cat I had ever seen. He was just about 6 months old, and he had the most spectacular bushy tail. I realized I could call him Bushy Tail and I would have Brite Eyes and Bushy Tail as pets (Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed, get it?).

When I got him home he was amazing. He was so sweet and calm, and he took care of Brite Eyes as if he was his father. But he was my baby. I couldn't go from one room to another without him following me. He didn't want to lay in my lap, he was never a lap cat, but he had to be in the same room.

He loved boxes. The smaller the better! He would see a box come in the house and watch for it to be emptied and wait for it to be put down for him. When we moved to our house, we had so many more rooms that I might be in, we started saving more boxes. We had one in the bedroom, one in the kitchen and one in the living room at all times so that wherever I was, there was a box for Bushy Tail to sleep in. We had to have boxes on reserve, because since he liked them small after a while they would break. He would stand by the box and look at it with the saddest look in his eyes. Like someone looking at a old car they finally had to junk. We would get out a few of the new boxes, and put them right next to the old one. We wouldn't take the old one away until he we saw that he selected one of the new ones as his favorite, though. Only then would we return to having only one box in the room. People would come over and see boxes on the floor and we would have to explain, "No we don't live in a dump, we are just letting Bushy Tail pick a new box."