Aug 29, 2010 19:38
My wife and I got a kitten out in front of a Safeway about 6 months before we got married. He lived with me and my roommate (who was really quite awful to him) until she moved out, I got married, and my fiance turned wife moved in. "Tuba" was our first pet but, sadly, he was hit by a car along our busy street about a year after we got him. He was rambunctious, fun, and a lively cat who was taken from us too soon.
A few months later (Summer 1995) we intended to simply get a new kitten but when we came home from the home of the person who had advertised having kittens with two of them. The last two. We just couldn't imagine taking away one from the other. We named them Spanky and Porky after the two brothers on The Little Rascals. Porky, as you can guess, was rounder than his brother. He was also braver and a bit more of a handful. He was the one who accidentally jumped into the dryer as my wife was loading it and spent a few seconds in a spin (he was fine; dizzy but fine) before she heard the "thump" and opened it up to see him jump out. Porky was the one who didn't much like the baby that came a year later and really didn't like it when the baby became a toddler. We had moved by then to a relatively small apartment and were saving up to eventually buy a home. It was 2 adults, a toddler, and two young cats. Porky, after being sent outside after scratching our baby son, took off and never came back. We always assumed he had an adopted home given how much he roamed the apartment complex.
Spanky was so different. He was easy going. He didn't necessarily love the curious little boy running around the apartment but he would just avoid him if he was annoyed. He never scratched Bailey once and never did anything to the other little boy, Gavin, that came along a few years later, shortly after we'd moved across town into our "starter" home. He took it with stride when we brought in this very hyper and much larger animal to the fold, a lab mix named "Foppa". He had to show her who was boss a couple of times but like with the kids, Spanky would just avoid trouble or confrontation. "Feed me and let me out when I want out" seemed to be his only demands. And he didn't go out often but, man, did he love to eat. It's ironic that we had named his brother Porky because Spanky eventually was nicknamed "Fat Cat".
He handled another move a few years later with ease, settling into a bigger house just fine even though it did take him a few weeks to realize that the stairs were nothing to be afraid of. He didn't even seem terribly pissed by the introduction of 2 new kittens. He just took his place as the senior pet and was the very picture of the libertarian animal: You leave me alone, I'll leave you alone, and everything will be fine.
He watched everyone grow around him: Kids, two other cats, and the final growth spurt of the dog. He was present for every moment of Bailey and Gavin's lives and he often liked to sleep on Gavin's bed. He didn't seek out attention but was always happy to be petted if someone wanted to take the time. And he moved yet again in the past year; once more up the I-5 corridor to our latest home.
Like our kids and ourselves, Spanky was getting older. In the last few months he had began to lose weight, simply because it was becoming more and more of an effort to get to his food dish. He could still move around when he needed to but seemed to appreciate it when we'd move his litter box and his food closer to wherever he'd chosen to hang out for the day. He became more clingy with my wife in recent months, often looking up to her and meowing until she'd pick him up and take him to a new location in the house just so that his slow moving self could have a change of scenery.
Every day lately we could see him fading. We'd pet him and he'd purr but there was a shortness of breath to it. He slept a lot and seemed scared of what was happening to him. Last night he scratched at the back door and wanted to go outside. He made his way down the deck steps and went out to lie underneath his favorite raspberry bush in our yard, where he often liked to be on the nice summer days. Last night my wife took his water out to him and he slept outside.
This afternoon after we returned from our family swim at the Y my wife and I found Spanky in the spot where he'd gone to sleep last night. And he was gone. I'd like to think our 15 year-old cat finally realized he could just let go and move on. He was in a place he liked to be, the night air and the daytime temperature were cool and I truly believe he was as comfortable as he could possibly be.
We had talked many times of taking him to the vet but he wasn't really sick. He was just old and neither my wife or I had any desire to pay several hundred dollars to be told that our cat was dying and that for several hundred dollars more he could just be put to sleep. That thought, the thought of what we didn't do actually gives me great comfort. If it had ever got to the point where he simply couldn't move or he appeared to be suffering we would have done that but I am much more at peace with him having died in a spot he liked to be, rather then having to take him to a clinic and watch someone take him from us. I think that would have been especially hard on our boys (who are now 13 and 10).
They were incredibly sad when we told them the news. They came out to the yard and saw him, all the while knowing it was just his body. The one pet they had each known all their lives was somewhere else. He was in the air or maybe just watching us. They helped to dig a hole in our yard and they helped to bury him in the very spot where he'd died. The digging ultimately dug up some fairly good size rocks and those rocks now rest on top of where Spanky lies. Next to the rocks is the dish that was entirely his. "Fat Cat" is written on it.
I'll miss Spanky a lot but mostly I am just so grateful to have had him for 15 years. He was a wonderful pet. I love that Bailey is almost 14, Gavin is 10 and a half and neither of them can remember a life without Spanky in it. Tomorrow will be Day 1 of a world and universe without him. And yet I know they will never forget him. He was their cat and they were in so many ways his two little boys. They'll think of him and I know that wherever he is now he is with them.
J
loss,
kids,
pets,
family