I was reminded today via a Facebook memory that it has been almost three years since our dear friend and family member Socks (a.k.a. Mr. Socky) departed this world. And although he is missed every day, the legacy of his love (and sometimes shenanigans) will live on forever.



I found Socks as a stray in the early 2000's while I was still in Community College. He would wander into my back yard while I was sitting outside just so he could get his ears rubbed and a can of tuna fish. I would sit there smoking cigarettes (back when I did such a thing) in the evening after work and he would hear my door open and come prancing in. It was his yard, and soon, he would recognize my scent when I went to my front porch as well. My father (who I shared a house with at the time) had just put my first kitty and lovable fur baby down a few years prior and was adamant that we were to never have a pet again in the house. He was a miserable piece of work. Still, I would sneak Socks in at night and give him flea baths, a good combing, and lots of food. At the end of the evening he would prance back out the back door and snuggle up into a plastic tote I made a house for him with and stuffed with blankets. Butt at one point he refused to really leave the yard. He had found his home and we were both determined to keep each other.

When my (now) husband moved in a few years later with his black lab mix I was worried how my beloved little man would take to having to share his home with another animal, especially one ten times his size. Surprisingly, Socks (whom I names after my favorite Beverly Cleary Book ) took to his new companion just fine. in fact, they sort of became inseparable and often conspired together to knock food off of the counters to eat

Socks and Thunder Lounging

A little while later we rescued another tuxedo cat, named Benjamin, but things didn't work out too well between the two. Socks was not having another male cat, firstly, and we also discovered that Benjamin was FIV positive and eventually spent the rest of his days at a place called the Best Little Cat House in PA. We took care of many strays while Socky was alive and eventually added four more (female)cats to our home. As long as he was the ruler of the pride and was given ample food and sleeping space, he didn't seem to mind. (Let's face it, the girls drove him mad, but he got them back just fine.)


Socks and Bellatrix Snuggled on the Couch.  He had a habit of just plopping his body wherever he felt without any regard for anyone else.

With a house full of animals things were going pretty well, until one day when we came home from work and discovered that Socks was lying limp at the top of the stairs. Unable to move and suffering from jaundice, we rushed him to our vet where, after some ingenious deductions, it was discovered that he had Hepatitis. Who would have ever though a feline could get Hepatitis? Well, just like there is a feline version of HIV, there is a version of Hepatitis. About two thousand dollars later, Socks was prescribed steroids, which he was given for a year or two and then only as needed. A short while later, Socks was back to his loving, snarky, fat-ass (excuse the language but it was actually one of his nicknames), self. He lived with the disease for years without it impeding on his life very much (except for the fights while trying to get him to take his pills.)



When Eamon was born, there was a sense of awe and curiosity with all of the animals. Socky was never one to give a darn about much, but welcomed the little human into his world without a fuss (even when Eamon decided to sleep on him or tug at his fur)



Even though things rapidly changed in our world, Socky lived his life as any adorable, slightly overweight Garfield of a cat would. Food. Sleep. Snuggles. Until 2014 when his health started to decline. He was no longer eating much and began wasting away. What he did eat would often some up or go out in an unpleasant manner. We knew his time was running out. Although he was still running around causing trouble and snuggling on the sofa with us, Socky was approaching that time where he would join his friend Thunder in heaven where they could get into Christmas stocking and steal food from people.

Eamon was still too small to really understand was it meant the day we took Socks to be put down. We made sure to feed him well. Give him lots of play, cat nip, and snuggles, and when it was time he simply said, "Goodnight kitty cat." By then the tears were flowing all over.

Now, Mr. Socky rests in a box sitting on my end table where he can be at peace and (sometimes) away from all of the feline estrogen running about the house. :) We have since rescued three new cats to, in a way, replace the other ones we have lost throughout the years, one being a big, black, part Maine coon cat who strangely has the same attitude and affect of our dearly departed Socks...almost like his spirit is still wandering about our house, snoring and eating McDonald's french fries and hot dogs (which he was known to do) off of the floor.