Incredibly long ode to an amazing cat
Mar 8, 2017 0:39:45 GMT -5
elnini, brenda, and 1 more like this
Post by lew92 on Mar 8, 2017 0:39:45 GMT -5
You came into our lives 16 years ago: abandoned, malnourished, parasite-ridden, running a fever from a horrible bacterial infection and to top it all, we thought you were a girl and named you “Dot”.
The vet set us straight on that and Rachel changed your name to Tippy. It took a few weeks, but with patience and medication your health was restored. You grew into a lovely, lively, beautiful man-cat and took over as guardian of your domain.
When outside, you hunted nearly non-stop and you never shared your prey with anyone. You did not deign to appease your humans with dead mice, rats, or rabbits…you kept it all for yourself. Not surprising considering that you were having to survive on what little you managed to find to eat before we took you in.
It was so amazing to come across you when you’d caught a mouse. Your golden eyes would be huge and round, your ears flattened back and your body low to the ground. No tame house cat there at all, you were wild, defiant, and proud. Rather than ask for praise over catching a meal, you would stalk away to eat it where it couldn’t be stolen from you.
You were such a proud defender of your home base, too. No stray cats allowed! Dumped-off grown tomcats that outweighed you were quickly run off. You took your share of maulings, too, and had the scars and notched ears to prove it. You ruled the house, too, and even in the past few days I saw you put three of the other cats in their place. I think they knew that you weren’t all you used to be, but you made sure to let them know you weren’t gone yet!
I’ll never forget the way you used to attack Frank. Maybe it was the male ego? A bid for dominance even in the human realm? Who knows, but I could tell by the look in your eye that Frank needed to watch out for you. Eventually, he’d forget, let down his guard and you would fly at him, scratching and biting. He’d push you away and eventually give you a bit of a smack and away you would go, convinced you had put the human man in his place again.
Your eyesight was never great. I don’t know if it was because of your white face or maybe an early infection we missed, but they were never as sharp as in most cats. I’m convinced that your hunting skills came more from your keen hearing. In the past three years, it was obvious that the eyes had gotten a LOT worse. You’d watch leaves dancing in the wind, go into serious hunting mode, but you’d have an odd look on your face – I think because you weren’t hearing what you expected. Eventually, you’d just walk away.
At about the same time, your attitude toward Frank changed. The attacks stopped and you started hanging out with him. Sitting on his lap or perched above his shoulder on the back of his recliner. Asking him for tidbits from his supper. Purring when he petted you. He became your favorite human rather than your rival. It was so sweet to see my two warriors become best of pals.
Then you started to lose weight and we knew that we were going to have to prepare to let you go. After all, you weren’t going to live forever, were you? We started saying things like, “I don’t think Tippy will make it to next Christmas.” But you saw two more of them. We changed your food, used more gentle dewormers and always made sure you were in the house at night. Your weight loss would halt and maybe you’d even gain a bit back, for a few weeks anyway. Then you’d start slipping again and we’d make more adjustments to accommodate you.
Then your hair started thinning from about your elbows back. We joked about cat male pattern baldness: “I wonder if he inherited that from his Dad?” but the jokes were just to hide our own fears about the day that was coming way too soon.
Yesterday, when you got sick and there was blood in the vomit, we knew it was time to let you go. You never acted as though you were in pain, never gave into the weakness, but you slept so much, maybe only awake an hour a day in total. Looking back, I think you were sleeping to avoid the pain.
I’m so sorry if we held on to you for too long. But when you would look at us with those huge golden eyes and then squint them to slits of pleasure when we rubbed your ears, how could we look at you and think that you were ready?
I don’t want to let you go, even now. But that isn’t a choice I can make anymore, is it?