I'll turn it over to my son, Ashar, who wrote this wonderful tribute to his cat:
July 2007Huggles' cameo appearances here over the years included "Board for Parker Brothers' 1936 version of the game Finance", "Cute vintage Christmas postcard, plus the famed Otto Christmas Cats" and "I'd blame the tryptophan, but cat pileups like this happen every day."
Little seven year old me bugged my parents and begged them to let me get a cat of my own and after some begging they agreed to let me get a cat to call my own. We got in the car and drove to the SPCA and once there we went inside and looked at all the kitties. We went into a room with one of the workers and I sat down on this mini sofa and as soon as I sat down this little black cat jumped on my lap and curled up in a ball and somehow in that moment I knew he was the cat for me.
Sometime in late 2008 (about one year later)
I was petting Huggles near the back door when I noticed a big red bump on the back of his leg and it looked a bit bloody. I got concerned and worried so I told everyone. We decided to take Huggles to the vet to get his lump on his leg checked out and it is a very good thing we took him to the vet when we did because the vet told us that his lump on his leg was cancer and that we needed to amputate his leg which would help him live longer.
Today, 11 years after his amputation and following a long and happy life, we say goodbye to our very strong and insanely brave little cat who stayed strong and kept on hopping until he couldn't hop anymore. We love you Huggles and you will forever be in our hearts and live on through us.
We liked to joke that Huggles had several dozen nicknames, and that we should take a moment to write them all down someday. We never did. One of my favorites was Little Man, which partly has ties to a folk tale. He was a very tiny cat, especially as he got older. And he reminded me of the tale "The Seventh Father of the House," as related by Norwegian folkorists Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe. In that tale, a weary traveler must ask the father of the house if he may stay for the night, and he gets sent through a succession of older and older men before encountering the true father of the house, a shriveled-up little man hanging in a horn on the wall. I called Huggles our Little Man, like in that tale. Rest in peace, Little Man.
Erik Werenskiold illustration from Norwegian Folktales.
You are, in fact, the furthest thing from a whiny and ungrateful jackass I know. Your kitty loved you - and knew you loved him. He was grateful for you. So are the rest of us.
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