Once upon a time, in July of 2012, a 2 paw declawed, neutered chocolate point, aged 14, was turned into a public shelter in New Jersey by his owners. The surrender paperwork indicated 'best cat ever', yet there was no reason for turn in. And so he sat.

We were notified of this poor guy, but typically we aren't able to help all the Geezers we hear about – they are usually so sad, often so ill, and rarely can we find an adopter to step up to take them on. But we just couldn't get this guy's expression out of our mind, and so forward we charged.

Bibby (his original name) came to the Center in Virginia where we spent the next month, night and day, day and night, trying to get this guy back on his feet. He needed all but his canines extracted, his teeth were so infected. Bloodwork was alright other than being very anemic. Xrays showed no masses or tumors, but no matter what we did we couldn't get him to eat, and believe me, in 15 years of doing this, we know every trick in the book. His weight dropped a pound. It was such a touch and go situation that I broke my one cardinal rule, and brought him over to the house, thinking that just maybe a home environment would be the ticket to his caring enough to live – because honestly, when there's nothing medical going on with these cats, it's all about their attitude, or should we say cattitude.

Not that he was super healthy. Limited vision, and a lot of neurological signs – circling, (always in the same direction), wobbly, confused. And yes, we tested for everything you're going to suggest.

Time passed, day 30 came and went, and life started looking up. Bibby began not only eating, but thriving. He followed me everywhere, slept in my arms, and snuggled like there was no end in sight. Much to the other house cats' dismay (no, they didn't really appreciate him here), it was clear he was here to stay.

Not long after his miraculous recovery, when Bibs had the run of the house, we discovered he liked to think outside the box. And yes, again, we've done everything you can do with cats that don't use the litterbox. Nothing worked. Bibbles is a sprayer – no, a soaker – kidneys are fine but he drinks a lot, sprays a lot, and snuggles a lot. We're in too deep at this point, no way this boy is going anywhere.

So diapers it is. Having been through this with another dream cat, Alfonso P. Wallabee, who spent his last year in diapers, it's second nature. Bibbles gets five diaper changes a day. We use regular baby diapers, cutting a hole for the tail. Stool passes through the hole into the litterbox (he often uses the litterbox for that), and we watch with amusement as he backs up vertically to anything and everything and stands there, looking proud, as he wets his diaper.

Bibbles is now close to 8 pounds, eats like a horse, and does all the normal cat things. Incredible cats are worth incredible measures. And he's one of them! Wow do I love this cat!!!!