It seems he had been breaking into my house for quite a while, sneaking through the cat door to steal my cat’s food while I was at work. This aging tuxedo tom cat appeared to be homeless and starving, with infected sores and bald patches all over his body. Although I wasn’t looking for a second cat, especially one in such poor condition, winter was on the horizon, and it was evident that this old boy wouldn’t survive a harsh cold spell.
Recognizing that he was nearly feral, I decided to trap him so I could take him to the vet. After neutering him and providing necessary medical treatment, the veterinarian explained that his fur loss was probably something he would have to live with for life. Once he started to heal, I brought him home and kept him in a back room, offering him regular food, water, and medicine.
Three weeks later, I opened all the doors to give him a chance to leave if he wished. He darted out like a wild animal, disappearing from sight. However, after three days away, he returned to my kitchen, looking for dinner. I named him Bandit, and it was clear that he had finally found his forever home.
Over time, Bandit’s fur grew back, and he regained his healthy figure. When he finally purred, it was an impressive sound—like a lawnmower starting. My Bandit blossomed into one of the best companions I could have hoped for, and I am forever thankful that his final act of mischief was making his way into my home—and my heart.