The Story of Snuggles

1986 - Christmas Eve 2008

Age: 22 Years, 8 months

Remembering angelic, sweet Snuggles

Snuggles was born homeless in 1986.  A Good Samaritan rescued her from the streets of Washington DC when she was 7 months old. She was frail and sick, eating garbage to survive.

She was taken to the Animal Welfare League of Arlington (AWLA) where the caring staff decided appropriately that Snuggles was too sick to be eligible for public adoption.  The decision was made to put her to sleep...then a miracle happened:  A teenage volunteer at AWLA, named Joyce, decided to try to save Snuggles. Snuggles spent the next weeks in intensive veterinary care, fighting to survive.  Amazingly, she did.

I adopted Snuggles from Joyce on New Year’s Day 1990.  A housemate of Joyce's for several years, I had grown to adore Snuggles.  When Joyce moved from our home, she offered Snuggles to me.  I was ecstatic! Snuggles had reached 4 years of age by this time and suffered chronic sinus infections but her health challenges didn't bother me.  I knew without a doubt that she was the perfect pet for me…sneezing, nose dribble and all.

For the next 19 years, Snuggles brought unimaginable joy and affection to everyone in my household.  She had a gentle, trusting, sweet personality with no capacity for aggression.  She was like no other cat I've ever met—she didn't meow; was not demanding; was not aloof; and never hissed, scratched or bit. She just simply loved you.  Whether she knew you or not, Snuggles galloped to greet you at the front door and made you feel like you were her favorite human.  I believe she knew she was a "rescue kitty" because it was as if she spent every waking moment trying to thank me. 

Snuggles was highly entertaining.  Perhaps because she was malnourished during her first 7 months, she never grew into an adult cat.  She stayed kitten-like in body and spirit.  Weighing only 5-7 lbs, she was always ready to play.  Her favorite activity was chasing a laser pointer light around and around in circles.  Ironically, her most playful years were those following the stroke she had around age 16. Despite becoming increasingly frail, nearly toothless, and suffering hearing loss, Snuggles chased the laser pointer every day with the whimsy of a kitten.  Since she was polydactyl---meaning she had an extra toe on each front paw which resembled a thumb---she looked as if she was smacking at the laser light while wearing white “mittens.”  She was also hilarious when she ate—she would whirl her tail in a circle and alternate lifting each hind leg.  My friends referred to this as “The Snuggle Dance.”  When she got excited from too much laser pointer chasing or too much eating, she would often break out into a sneezing fit, losing her balance and sometimes toppling over.  She made me laugh every single day.

Around December 19^th 2008, Snuggles stopped playing with her laser pointer for the first time ever.  My heart sank because I knew she was letting me know that her tiny, frail, nearly 23-year-old body was tired.  She suddenly collapsed and died, at home and in my arms, this past Christmas Eve. 

When I feel really down, I remind myself that certain pets are bonded to us for eternity, not just this lifetime.  This verse, written by the veterinarian at Loudoun Cat Care, expresses this conviction beautifully:

I have wrapped my tail around your heart to keep my memories in, and left my paw prints all over you to mark you as mine forever. 

Snuggles will forever be one of the greatest joys of my life.  I’m sharing her story with you because I hope it will inspire you to give whatever you can afford to animal shelters like AWLA.  There are so many homeless pets out there just waiting to be wanted so they can fill their new owner’s home with the same joy that Snuggles brought to mine.  Please help them in any way that you can.