Exposing the inner sorrows of my being is not an easy task, and knowing I'm not alone in this doesn't make it any easier.
How do you explain to those who don't bond with a pet that it's like losing a family member? Like losing a best friend and companion?
Oh I have heard "well you'll just get over it, get another pet" or "I'm not a cat person, I can't relate" These are words. Not healing for my pain, for the loss, for the hole in our home, in our hearts.
We said goodbye on a Sunday evening, when the thunderheads were gathering, when the wind was whipping up for another dry hot weekend...but I am getting ahead of myself.
There was a time when while living on the north west coast of British Columbia I pushed for a pet - we had just purchased a beautiful home, with a big fenced yard, lots of room for a fido to be a part of our family. And not a little fluffy yappy dog, no a "real" dog - with a big solid WOOF of a bark. And so I optimistically started looking for "the right one".
A rescue dog seemed to fit the bill. Oh and then I saw it - Barney. Basset hound mix. Goofy looking but sturdy. Off we went - oh yeah a pooch was the answer! We arrived at the shelter, it had a no kill policy so the animals were some times in for the long haul - getting out of the car, we heard a sound. A wild boar? A scared mule? what the heck kind of bark was that???? Horrified we realized it was...Barney!! Yikes!! Pig-dog is the only way I can describe it. A couple of ear splitting bellows and I said - maybe not for us. Let's look at the cats.
My plan - which was apparently very fluid - was to just look at the cats in the shelter. And there were cats aplenty!! Old cats, fluffy cats, scared cats, fat cats, baby cats...a plethora of pussycats! One beautiful old kitty - Himalayan by it's markings, was sitting in its litter box. "He is too sad" husband said "he is saying, I'm shit. No one wants me" I was almost in tears! We couldn't take them all. It was a bit heart breaking.
Then there was one more we hadn't paid attention to. A big guy. Black and white like Sylvester. Sitting back with a "I could care less if you like me or not, or pet me or talk to me...move along you're bothering me" look. Until John walked up. Then the big guy got up - put his paw through the wire on the cage and beckoned as if "You, yeah you, c'mere." and that was it. I said he reminded me of the gangster on the Simpsons.
The cat had chosen John. Not us. Not me. Him specifically. Checking with the shelter staff we found this cat had days before he was considered "Kennelized" and unadoptable due to his long incarceration. Doomed to life in the shelter. No kill policy remember. We talked about it on the drive home, and before we even pulled in the garage were turning around, getting a liter box, food, etc and going back to get our new cat!
Well lemme tell you - this cat - who had a gansta attitude and whom we immediately named Fat Tony aka Mr. Big - and who was estimated to be 5 yrs old and around 20 lbs was a terror!!! Oh he snuggled John, all purring and head butts to the beard, laying on his chest like a perfect pet. I thought yes, we have a new friend. This however was not to be.
Mr Big it was determined, would be kept in the house for a few days till we felt he knew this was in fact his new home. Mr Big didn't like this plan. So on day 3 in his new loving home, he decided that since John was his Alpha - I was his subordinate. This meant I was fair game in the attack department.
Now if moving to a new city wasn't enough, and a new house....getting attacked and I mean teeth and claws - by a 20 lb cat was more than I could handle! He nailed me - paws and claws wrapped around my right leg, teeth deep in the side of my knee - and I reacted like the chicken I am and ran!! Slammed the bedroom door - kind of caught his head - but I was in tears!! John said "You better show him who's boss" and grabbing a rolled up magazine chased that cat all over the house for 15 minutes - slamming and banging on everything near him - but not hitting the cat. Telling Mr Big the whole time - "She's mine, not yours, you cannot attack my woman".
The start of a some times tense relationship - he knew how to push my buttons, (panic buttons!) and how to badger me into getting his way.
In his old age, Mr Big because much cuddlier. When husband left for a two week assignment to South America, Mr B was at first - put out! He bit, hissed, scratched...but after three days of "Hey where's my man?" he gave up. The Ruler of the House must have realized - "hey, "
she" is the only one left here - to feed me, give me pets, and change the liter box. I shouldn't kill her - yet!" And so the final truce was settled - for those two weeks, the only snuggles the big guy got were on my lap. I was it. Wisely, he decided ok I'll be nice to her - and our final stage of love and life commenced. I did learn to love him - yes there were still the odd hiss and swat, but habits of a lifetime are hard to shake. He had become - a lovable, placid, house cat.
Then he started to lose some weight - hmmm not like him. Moved a lot slower. Stopped eating. This was NOT like our cat at all! So off to the vet - a teary trip because he was just SO unhappy about being in the car and I felt I was torturing him. Poor cat.
The vet took him into the back, and I heard loud yowling and protests. The test results came in - Mr. B had renal failure. The vet looked so crestfallen when he told me - he was not happy to announce the impending demise of our much loved pet.
Apparently the high protein food that was increasing his mobility had sped up the ruin of his kidneys - so a new food was recommended. And amazingly - it worked! His coat was shiny, he was looking happy and being an active cat again. Ok he was moving a bit slower, but it was an age thing too right?
He became a whiz at catching mice - and delivered many presents at my feet - mainly baby field mice and I don't even want to know where he got them from. He purred and let me rub his head between the ears. We sat together and read books or watched movies....and his final year was one of peaceful coexistence. It was a good time of his life, we were all thankful.
We knew it couldn't last - the Vet said with the change of diet he might have a year, two if we were really lucky. Well a year after the diagnosis, he started to fail - and very fast. He had trouble walking, and taking the stairs. He was not happy. You could tell he felt awful. Then the morning of my birthday came along - July 9. John was outside starting the bbq when I heard him call - "He's collapsed" and our sadness started to push at the flood gates. Our hearts were breaking, it was time. A call to the Vet, and a quiet sad car trip...and we handed him over after many tearful goodbyes.
Then we waited outside - until we knew - Mr. Big was gone. Just recalling the day brings tears to my eyes.
We'd lost our friend and companion of 13 years. The hole in our hearts, in our lives and our home was vast. And we mourned our loss, at times not even able to look at each other. He was a good cat. Mr Big will be missed forever.
Afterwards, when we could talk about it, we decided it was just too hard to lose a pet. So no more. No pets, no cats, no dogs, no gerbils, birds or fish. We were done. I gave all the "cat stuff" away to other cat owning friends, and we resigned ourselves to be pet-less. Then a friend sent a picture of a kitten.
Oh no, here we go again.
To be continued.
