About 11 or so years ago, I helped my crazy cat give birth. It was quite an ordeal as she was not quite 6 months old and knocked up... but she was a Hemingway cat and I loved her. It should not have been a surprise that each one of her babies would have the same status of being able to be called a polydactyl. She had five babies... Henry, Moo-Moo, Hannibal, Boadicea and Sir Albert Whitehead. Hannibal was the last cat I had to assist her with in the delivery... she was so little and he was such a big baby kitten that I almost had to do an episiotomy, but we managed to get him out without a tear and any other trauma. He was a shy and quiet little kitty, and was terrorized by his brothers and sister... so that is why I named him Hannibal. He needed a strong name, a fighting name... and I picked Hannibal. Though we always called him Ibbles or Ibbies.
Most of the time, while I was on bed rest, Hannibal was as you see him in the picture. He sat curled up at the foot of my couch (I did couch rest) and just hung out with me the whole 17+ weeks of it... bless him for that!
A month or so ago, he was diagnosed with lung cancer.
Today at 5 pm, we put him to sleep.
I was a smoker for the early part of his life and I feel so incredibly guilty for the part that played towards his demise.