Sweet, sweet Bird
He was a birthday present to me from Haddayr, both him and his brother, Mouth. She gave them to me in 1993, shortly after we'd moved to Minneapolis. The two of them came from a farm, south of the cities. The couple who was giving them away had found the two kittens abandoned beneath a tire, with no mother in sight. They'd had a cat of their own who had just given birth, and so they'd put the found kittens with her, and she happily nursed them along with her own litter.
When we brought them home, they were both so tiny, tiny, tiny, and they still hadn't yet been weaned so we gave them a bottle. Bird, upon sight of the bottle, shoved his brother aside and began gnawing happily at the nipple, almost growling as he drank thirstily. The two kittens were so small, I could fit them both in one hand.
Bird was such a sweet, loving cat. Whenever I was sad, he would seek me out and curl up in my lap, or butt his head against my chest. He had a game he would play, where whenever you pet him he would roll and purr and pull your hand to exactly where he wanted you to scratch him, and then he would get up and move just out of your reach, to see if you truly loved him and would follow. If you didn't, he'd come back for more pettings, but if you did move, he'd move again, just to get you to follow. When we would go on vacation, he'd meet us at the door when we came home, meowing anxiously, wondering why we'd left and where we'd gone and would we please never leave again. He used to wait in the window of our first apartment for Haddayr to come home, and when he'd see her walking down the street, he'd leap to the floor and run to the door to greet her. Even last night, as he lay on the floor unable to move more than a few steps at a time, he heard her pull up in the car outside and lifted his head to watch the door. And he had the sweetest face.
He'd been in renal failure for over four years, and I'd been keeping him alive by giving him regular fluids through an IV. This past week, he took a sudden downturn. He'd stopped peeing, had slowed down his drinking, and could no longer poop no matter how much he tried. And he'd started to lose control of his back legs. I knew that he didn't have much longer. Last night, I carried him up to our bed, in case he passed away in the night. This morning, he was still alive, but he could barely move. His back legs were useless -- he couldn't even stand up -- and his front legs weren't much better. I carried him downstairs, and the family and I gathered around him, thinking that this might be the end. At about a quarter after nine, he began to have spasms, and cried out. I picked him up and held him in my arms and comforted him the best I could, and felt his body shake and then become still. We buried him in our backyard.
There are certain pets that for whatever reason, are just those special pets you bond with and have a connection with like no other. He was one of those pets, as is his brother. It's hard to think of our home without him. I miss him. Terribly.
Years ago, Haddayr began singing the cats a song to the tune of "Black is the Color (Of My True Love's Hair)." It became their special song, and every time they heard the melody they would perk up and look around, and blink contentedly, because they knew it was for them. Even last night, when I sang it to him he perked up while he listened. When we buried Bird, we all sang him his song one last time, and then we said goodbye. Farewell, sweet, soft prince. You were loved dearly and you will be missed.
Blue, blue, blue is the color of my sweet Bird's fur
I love to hear his sweet, soft purr
The wildest eyes and the daintiest paws
That hold his tiny sharpened claws
Blue, blue, blue is the color of my sweet Bird's fur
When we brought them home, they were both so tiny, tiny, tiny, and they still hadn't yet been weaned so we gave them a bottle. Bird, upon sight of the bottle, shoved his brother aside and began gnawing happily at the nipple, almost growling as he drank thirstily. The two kittens were so small, I could fit them both in one hand.
Bird was such a sweet, loving cat. Whenever I was sad, he would seek me out and curl up in my lap, or butt his head against my chest. He had a game he would play, where whenever you pet him he would roll and purr and pull your hand to exactly where he wanted you to scratch him, and then he would get up and move just out of your reach, to see if you truly loved him and would follow. If you didn't, he'd come back for more pettings, but if you did move, he'd move again, just to get you to follow. When we would go on vacation, he'd meet us at the door when we came home, meowing anxiously, wondering why we'd left and where we'd gone and would we please never leave again. He used to wait in the window of our first apartment for Haddayr to come home, and when he'd see her walking down the street, he'd leap to the floor and run to the door to greet her. Even last night, as he lay on the floor unable to move more than a few steps at a time, he heard her pull up in the car outside and lifted his head to watch the door. And he had the sweetest face.
He'd been in renal failure for over four years, and I'd been keeping him alive by giving him regular fluids through an IV. This past week, he took a sudden downturn. He'd stopped peeing, had slowed down his drinking, and could no longer poop no matter how much he tried. And he'd started to lose control of his back legs. I knew that he didn't have much longer. Last night, I carried him up to our bed, in case he passed away in the night. This morning, he was still alive, but he could barely move. His back legs were useless -- he couldn't even stand up -- and his front legs weren't much better. I carried him downstairs, and the family and I gathered around him, thinking that this might be the end. At about a quarter after nine, he began to have spasms, and cried out. I picked him up and held him in my arms and comforted him the best I could, and felt his body shake and then become still. We buried him in our backyard.
There are certain pets that for whatever reason, are just those special pets you bond with and have a connection with like no other. He was one of those pets, as is his brother. It's hard to think of our home without him. I miss him. Terribly.
Years ago, Haddayr began singing the cats a song to the tune of "Black is the Color (Of My True Love's Hair)." It became their special song, and every time they heard the melody they would perk up and look around, and blink contentedly, because they knew it was for them. Even last night, when I sang it to him he perked up while he listened. When we buried Bird, we all sang him his song one last time, and then we said goodbye. Farewell, sweet, soft prince. You were loved dearly and you will be missed.
Blue, blue, blue is the color of my sweet Bird's fur
I love to hear his sweet, soft purr
The wildest eyes and the daintiest paws
That hold his tiny sharpened claws
Blue, blue, blue is the color of my sweet Bird's fur