When I first got him home he smelt so bad through not washing himself, my Mum helped me bath him. He fitted into a small washing up bowl and made no attempt to escape. He really didn't care what we did to him, he had pretty much given up.
After that he spent the first week under my bath during the day (no side panels, nasty turquoise blue, dead rat in it when I first moved in...) and during the night he would 'amuse' me with his wall of death routine around my living room. Several days in I thought I would have to take him back, I couldn't get any sleep for all the commotion, my Mum even rang the sanctuary to make arrangements. Well, I was young and hadn't understood what I was getting. Thankfully I gave him a bit longer to adjust. 'Him' had a name. As a avid Red Dwarf watcher my little boy became known as Lister.
He turned out to be a lovely cat, he was my best friend. We spent many hours playing with silver foil balls. In the mornings I would have to empty my shoes of them. Presents you see. Silver balls were fine but the odd mouse in my shoe was less appealing.
This is about the best photo I have of him. It's still in a frame in my bedroom :) Unfortunately, it was before the days of digital.
It must be 8 years since he had to be put to sleep, but I will never forget that morning. My husband at the time could see him in our back garden, but no amount of shouting or biscuit box rattling would encourage him to move.
He was very quiet at first and then he began to cry in pain. It was horrible. The kids were crying too, we all were. The Vet wasn't sure what had happened, but for some reason Lister could no longer move his back legs. I held him in my arms as he went to sleep and I brought him back home in a daze. He was my first born, just a cat to some, but not to me.
And so he rests in my back garden and on that day I said I would never have another cat, no one could replace my Lister, no one could possibly compare.