Gunther was my first cat...my ex-husband still jokes to this day that he is the "ONE" who started all the insanity of rescuing cats and throwing myself into this crazy world of animal lovers/rescuers/advocate.

He lived his life the first five years like any Russian Blue...With cattitude, cattitude, cattitude! He was my ONLY and LAST purebred cat, and if you know anything about the breed....they don't do well in busy households. He hated when we installed ceiling fans in the living room, bedroom and office. He protested it and wouldn't go in those three rooms for months, no matter how I tried to call him to me. He wore a bandana from 8 weeks old until the day he died, 22 years later. He wore it with pride, knowing damn well that no other cat in this house had one on and it made him "the man."

Then, one by one....I started rescuing other cats. First Sassy, he bit and scratched her for years. Then Charlie who he stalked for years, pushing her under the bed so she was petrified of coming out for days sometimes. Then Holly, who he adored from the moment she came into the front door. He slept with her every night, her grooming him until he fell asleep. Only did she stop and not go to him any longer when he became sick. My vet said she knew he was dying, and she was separating herself from him. It didn't work. She cries and searches for him, still. Then Marcie, who he simply ignored from the day she entered. He was never bothered by her presence and from that day forward he was never bothered by any cat or kitten that entered this house. He was the king, and he knew this was his home to rule.

In his lifetime I bottle-fed hundreds of kittens....hundreds of them. Most were adopted to wonderful homes, some returned to the shelter and were adopted from there and some...well, some stayed. As the years passed by, and more cats stayed, Gunther resolved himself to being the "man" of this house and gently he ruled the girls. He didn't hiss, he didn't spit, he didn't scratch or bite....but there was a saying in this house, and it rang true for all the other cats. "If Gunther ain't happy, ain't no one happy".....

I could go on and on and tell you story after story. Twenty-two years this boy loved me, even though sometimes I didn't have all the time I would have liked to to spend with him. He loved me despite my marriage of 17 years dissolving, he loved me when I weighed almost 500 lbs. and he loved me after I had gastric bypass and lost 300 lbs. He loved my fiancé' and in the end, he loved each and every cat in this house in his own way.

I will miss him terribly, that goes without saying. But, I will rejoice in having so many memories....