1st Place in Derby #358: Perspective, with 185 votes!

While hiking, Tyler entertained himself by remembering when Rembrandt was just a kitten. The vet said, "He's going to get bigger, you know?" at their first appointment, and in response, Tyler simply laughed and said, "I know." 

But he had no idea it would be like this.

By the time he was a year old, Rembrandt looked to be a full-sized cat. At two, he was the size of a Great Dane. At four, a clydesdale. At six, he couldn't fit in the backyard anymore. The vet told Tyler it would be best to have Rembrandt put down, but Tyler said no, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Instead, he found a train conductor with a soft spot for animals and had Rembrandt transported out into the country. "I'm not abandoning you," he told his cat, who was the size of a three-story house when he sat upright, "I'll be there to visit often." 

And he kept his promise. For the first few months it was easy. Rembrandt took up residence in hay field, and Tyler drove up three times each week with his truck bed filled with wet food. Sometimes, he even brought a tent and stayed overnight.

But as Rembrandt continued to grow, the visits became more and more difficult. The cloud cover often obscured the cat's head, and a twitch of the tail could prove deadly. That didn't keep Tyler away, though. Nothing would keep him away - not excessive heat, nor snow, nor rain, nor the hail pelting him now as he hiked.

Tyler stepped off the narrow foot trail that he himself had worn into the ever-growing slope and took refuge under a tuft of fur. If this weather kept up, he'd have a hard time reaching the head before sun down. But he would get there. And when he did, he would rub Rembrandt's gums and Rembrandt would purr so hard that it would shake Tyler's whole body, and it would be just like old times, only to a different scale. 

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