Ode To "Gray Kitty" ........

Yesterday was – for the most part – exactly what I had planned with that being a day of rest. New Year’s Day for the past several years has tended to be a quiet one for me. Still catching up on rest from the holidays, I like to spend it cooking a traditional meal of black-eyed peas and kale. Hopefully the peas offer up “luck” while the kale, or some form of greens down south, offer up “money” for the coming year. The balance of the afternoon is spent thinking about what I hope to accomplish during the course of the coming year during my brief respite from ordinary life. I know other parts of the country’s traditions may differ, but this is how we do it down around these parts.

I also hope every year will begin on a positive note, but such was not the case yesterday. My family lost “Gray Kitty” yesterday following several months where his old body just began to wither away. We weren’t sure exactly how old he was, because he just showed up one day many years ago and consequently never left ….. as has been the case with a number of family pets over the years. However, my estimate would put him somewhere between the ages of 15 – 20 human years old.

I know dog lovers like to boast that cats are too independent and lack the warmth otherwise displayed by dogs, and for the most part this is true, but you have to understand cats in order to know how to fully appreciate them, as well as how to love them and recognize how they love you. Cats are not needy, and if you mistreat them, they will happily abandon you for a more favorable abode, which is smarter than most people I know. They do not pine away and grieve for you when you leave your house, and they will not meet you at the door wagging their tails when you return, but I had one cat, “Little Jazzman” who instinctively knew each time I was worried or upset, and during those times he would insist on sleeping on the same pillow where I lay my head. When the stressful period ended, he would go back to his preferred sleeping arrangement. When they’re particularly happy with you, they like to head-butt you, curl up in your lap or make love to your calves while you prepare their dinner, and when you brush them, they will plop down and roll around signifying their obvious approval. Excellent hunters by nature, they do not eat their prey, but proudly deposit it at your doorstep as if presenting their monarch with a prized trophy for your trophy case.

While all of my animals over the years have been indoor/outdoor pets up until a couple of months ago, Gray Kitty actually preferred outdoors. He patrolled the grounds by day running off any foreign intruders, and insisted upon getting in front of the car as it came up the drive in order to lead it into the garage. On warm days he slept in the direct sunlight often perched on an automobile, and on cold winter days he slept in the storage room with a nightlight and a space heater. For years – because he wouldn’t let anyone get close to him – we actually thought he was female, but subsequently found out otherwise. Fiercely independent, he was hard to get to know and didn’t accept affection freely, but once he let you into his world, you were gold, as was evidenced by his audible purring sounds and his refusal to let you pass without gently tapping you on the head or leg depending upon his vantage point.

Late last summer he ran inside the house when the yard worker’s leaf-blower fired up, and from that point on he never wanted to go back outside. It was as if he had experienced an epiphany ….life on the inside was good, and he wasn’t about to go back outside. However, the transition was not without its difficulties. He disappeared for two full days and just when we’d all but convinced ourselves he had gotten out and gone off to die, I heard the faint sound of a “meow” coming from underneath the kitchen sink and found him holed up in a cabinet. Once released, he drank a lot of water, ate a good meal and then took his usual spot up on the back of the sofa, no worse for the wear.

Somehow he became a “different cat” on the inside ….. he loved everybody and relished the attention they gave him ….. even the overly enthusiastic 5-year-old Isabella didn’t deter his efforts at getting affection, but soon afterwards it became apparent he wasn’t just old, he was sick. Despite maintaining a healthy, almost voracious appetite, weight started falling off of him at a rapid rate, exposing his protruding hip bones and eventually his ribs. We thought about taking him to the vet, but that wouldn’t have been what he wanted. At his age exhaustive tests and invasive examinations would have stolen his spirit and whatever quality of life he had left. Although, Mom and I made a solemn vow, should he begin to suffer, we would be forced to otherwise take action.

So for a couple of months we coddled and babied him giving him whatever he wanted to eat or drink, regular brushings and plenty of affection to go around. However yesterday he took a very bad turn as he stopped eating, his breathing became very labored and at one point he even began convulsing up liquid that was dark brownish-black in color. It was apparent he was hemorrhaging, and there was nothing that could be done. So for his last hours, he was stroked and brushed, and spoken to lovingly. Mom and I made him as comfortable as possible and allowed him to die on his terms and with dignity. He passed around midnight.

I patted his cold, lifeless body one more time this morning, as I instructed Mom who she needed to call to deal with his remains. He is buried on our property next to the dog he loved as much as we all did, and I like to think of he and “Gabby” nosing around the yard same as they used to with “Gray Kitty” nuzzling his head into her face as she focuses her attention just beyond him.

We’ll miss Gray the same way we do all of them – our once beloved pets – who have consented to give us comfort when for whatever reason the rest of the world seemed to turn away. For those of us who love animals like we do, it’s never been the relationship between a master and his dog or cat, but rather just members of the same quirky family who manage to accept one another for who we are and love us in spite of ourselves. Together we bring out the best in one another, and I don’t think I’m alone in believing we will all see each other again one day. In the meantime life goes on for all of us who have loved and lost, knowing only time will make it easier.