I got Bear back in February 1990 and I have to confess… I stole him.
I was working in an apartment building and one of the tenants was bragging on how their junky neighbors thought it was funny giving their cats heroin. So I asked her to show me. There was a mother cat and a kitten. The mother cat was almost dead and the kitten was sick. I had to leave because I was getting sick to my stomach. As I’m walking toward the door, the kitten climbed up my leg and got in my jacket pocket. Nobody noticed, and I kept walking! I called the police so they could get the other cat out! Unfortunately she passed away.
I took Bear straight to the vet, told him the story, and of course, he didn’t believe me until he found a few fresh needle marks and Bear went through his first withdrawal.
Bear was about six weeks old when I took him. The first couple weeks were the hardest. After that, the withdrawals were easier on him. For the other animals… Not so much!
Bear should have been twins; he had two sets of baby teeth, an extra kidney, seven toes on one foot, eight on the other, and six on his back feet. When he had an episode, all the other animals ran for cover! (LOL!)
I lost Bear in 2008 from cancer. He was eighteen.