Birthday Boy

At about 4 a.m. 13 years ago, Gizzie was born in my closet.

I originally named him Gizmo because of his ears and gave him the middle name Tesla because of his penchant for lying on electrical cords. It didn’t take long to shorten that mouthful to just plain Gizzie.

We learned over time that he was a very social little one and he really adored my blonde old world terrier Jack, who taught him everything he knew. Gizzie was born in May of 2008. We lost Jack that fall to bladder cancer. It was heartbreaking for both of us, but we carried on.

In 2011 we became homeless. I came very close to committing suicide, but my responsibility as a cat mom kept me from it. We learned just how compassionate and sharing Gizzie was then, too.

I ended up managing a homeless shelter and I was enthusiastically empowered to have him help me. He’s people oriented and a great babysitter. I could rely on him without fear to watch the babies. He shared food and toys with other pets. He looked out for everyone.

Often people would ask if he could be adopted. Of course not! Some even tried to pack him in their totes and spirit him away. It was a neverending battle, but he wiggled too much and squawked once in a while. As much as he loved them all, he didn’t want to go home with anyone else.

He and I are retired now and living full lives. I married Mark 3 years ago. He welcomed Gizzie (and me) with open arms. Gizzie now has a sister and 3 brothers, plus his new daddy. We’re all good.

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