Wesley was the nearly ferrule cat adopted by Hubby's sister in Houston. We visited Wesley's home many times, but never actually got to visit with Wesley until his later years and even then he mostly watched us from afar.
He didn't welcome us but he never tried to make us miserable in his home -- he never peed in our shoes, on our bed, or tore apart our clothing or the Christmas presents we would bring along. One year he did try to eat the Christmas tree and once he threw up from the top of the stairs all down the white walls into the living room. But he tolerated us and he gave wonderful love to his human. He even got so he would venture into the living room to sit on his human's lap to receive the love he deserved while we were there, though he approached his chosen spot by circuiting the walls of the living room so he could avoid strange human contact.
The boys were fascinated by Wesley but they knew not to bother him. Gus ignored him entirely while Luie would eventually feel his aura on the stairs and would try to approach. A couple of hisses from Wes usually sent Luie off on other entertainment, but the two did acknowledge the existence of each other.
My favorite Wesley story was with Milly, our first Schnauzer. Wesley originally shared his home with Omri, a wonderfully friendly orange cat with a winning personalty. The Schnauzers never bothered Omri and while Omri ruled his roost we did not see Wesley at all. We would arrive and Wesley would hide until we departed, while Omri played host to the guests. The last year of Milly's life she was nearly blind, deaf, and was suffering from the dog version of alzheimer's (canine cognitive dysfunction). She found that Wendy's couch was a comfortable place to sleep at night, it was low to the ground and soft and she would wander from our bedroom to nestle down on it for the night. I awoke to go find her one late night, to see her curled up on the couch with Wesley cuddled up next to her, both sound asleep. He had recognized an anguished soul and had come down to give comfort. From that moment on, Wesley was aces in my book -- even if he chose to ignore my presence on every visit.
Wendy put Wesley down this afternoon, giving him the gift of ending his suffering and pain. He will be remembered fondly and stories will be told about him. We were glad to have known him.