Joy in the Journey

Today would have been Bubba's 12th birthday. We go way back.
He put up with a lot of torment through the years.
Amanda and kitten Bubba. He was so little when I named him, but he quickly filled in. He could frequently be found napping on his food dish. When he woke up, he would resume eating.
Since he was little, Bubba loved being in small boxes. Shoe boxes were his favorite.
Bubba was the perfect cat. He self-entertained, napped and ate all day, but played when you wanted to. He could pull his own treats from the bag, he scratched at the door to go potty, he loved his tummy rubbed or head scratched and purred like a lawn mower. He was the most mellow cat anyone, including vets, ever met.
He made it through a lot of hard times:
He was hit by a car/ran into a moving car and his shoulder was hurt. The vet couldn't do anything for it, and though it healed he always had a limp afterward. It didn't stop him from being hit a second time. He was a slow learner.
He was once started in the dryer. And my mom didn't have hearing aids yet, so luckily I was in the other room and he didn't get too dry.
He loved eating everything, and most of his snacks were probably fatal. Like poinsettia leaves, though their danger is debatable.
My sister and I once bathed him with dog shampoo, which cats are allergic to. He started having seizures and the vet said he wouldn't make it through the night. We washed him over and over with dawn soap and kept him in the dark room with a heating pad overnight, and when we went to check on him in the morning he was eating breakfast. Nothing stopped him from eating. The vet said his layers of fat tissue probably prevented the poison from getting through to his organs and saved his life.
He tried crawling into a fire John made in our fireplace. He'd never seen one and was probably just curious.
He jumped out of my bicycle basket once, right over my front tire, and I almost ran him over.
I'm probably missing some other accidents. If he'd been a child I would have been reported to CPS. Needless to say, Bubba was on his 9th life.
Bubba's "cold" was getting worse and his medicine wasn't helping. His face started swelling and it turned out he had a nasal tumor. He never complained or let it interfere with his routine; he was such a fighter. He would have probably lived another year if we'd let him. His quality of life was deteriorating with his health, though, and he seemed to be ready to go. I think he was holding on so long to let me get used to the idea of him being gone.
Amanda came over to say goodbye and give him a final brush. I gave him one last bath.
He had lost a lot of weight since December and it really showed when he was wet. He was down to 12.8 lbs. He was usually around 16 in his glory days.
He was such a sweet boy and always let me hold him. He loved to cuddle.
He always loved being brushed. He purred and kneaded the air through his last minute.
He made so many people happy in his life. He was a charmer and everyone that met him loved him.
The house seems empty and quiet without Bubba and we really miss him.