When I was a child, I lived with my aunt and uncle, and she would feed this cat that was hidden under a office trailer in the middle of an abandoned car dealership. I remember she feed him for a long time and then finally he was comfortable enough to come close and she brought him home.
He was edgy, aggressive, and loud. None of the other cats wanted to go near him because of how big he was. Found out from the vet he was a crossbreed with Coon and some other breed I cannot recall. He seemed to have never been well socialized, as he was cautious around everyone and every animal we had and couldn’t meow, but he tried and this little squeak like a mouse would come from him. Named him Squeaky.
Through many scratches, and bites, and hissing, he finally came trust me and was my biggest buddy for years; sleeping in my bed, joining me for breakfast (Where he knew I’d give him some of my milk and bacon), and guarding my room from other cats or dogs. He d.i.ed around the age of 13 or so. R.I.P little buddy.
