Old Cat

I was thinking of our first pet the other day. It was a yellow tabby cat, long haired, named "Old Cat". That wasn't his original name, but he has an interesting story.

We got the cat as a kitten when my daughter was probably less than a year old. We thought it was a female and named her Agatha. She was a sweet kitten, and my daughter loved her, but it wasn't too long before it became apparent she was really a he. It seemed silly to try and come up with a different name, so we simply called him "Cat".

He was a very patient cat, even as a kitten. He allowed my daughter and her brothers that followed to hug and hold and carry him around, to pet him vigorously, and to pull his tail. If they got too rough, he would rise from his place on the carpet, walk about three feet, and lay down again. And he didn't complain when the kids followed him to his new spot and did the same thing all over again.

He never acted like a cat. He was not arrogant or self-centered, but rather he was humble and sweet and thoughtful. He seriously seemed to consider the feelings of others which is a ridiculous statement to make, I know, but I swear he did. We had an elderly lady next door to us whose own cat had died and she missed her. She was so excited when we got a cat that she would bring it treats and toys. Eventually, she would have our cat over for visits. On one very cold day she called to see if the kitty could visit and I said sure. I was ready just to throw him out of the house, but she said she would open her front door and call him and I could watch the cat as it walked to her house (it was all of 25 feet door to door). The cat obediently complied. When she was finished with her play date, she called us back and told us that Cat would be leaving and we should let him back in the house. We obediently complied.

Once when my middle son was a toddler, barely walking, I was getting the kids into the car next to the house. I had a newborn, a three-year-old, and a 17-month old, and I was putting the baby into his car seat when I looked up and saw the middle son toddle towards the top of the steps off the back porch. The steps led to the driveway and the concrete sidewalk, and the little guy didn't know how to do steps. He also wasn't very steady on his feet. I saw what was happening from the far side of the car and told him to stop. He just grinned at me and then I saw the cat walk over to him and stand in front of him so he couldn't go off the top step. The cat stood there until I could get the baby secured and go rescue the toddler from his precarious position. It was like watching Lassie in action.

About a year later we decided to add another pet to our household, and we got a cocker spaniel. He was a high-strung, high-maintenance dog that stayed only a month and left us with an infestation of fleas, uprooted peonies, and a carpet full of pee. It also caused our cat to pack his bags and leave home. We got rid of the dog and weren't sure of what happened to the cat until one day when I saw him strutting down the alley, wearing a flea collar for heaven's sake! I called to him and he looked my direction then looked away. As if!

So when we decided he was gone for good, we got a new kitten and named her Lily. Lily was barely settled when our old yellow tabby appeared again at our door, tattered suitcases in hand, with a look of "Did you think I could be replaced that easily?" on his kitty face. At that moment, he became "Old Cat" (as in the old cat has returned) and he remained "Old Cat" the rest of his days. And he never left us again.

Old Cat had issues with birds that were not very cat-like. He used to get beat up by blue jays and starlings for just sitting around our yard. He took it, but when he had enough he would slink into the house. He attacked any feathered pets we had including finches and a chicken and caused the death of one and the near-death of another. We had to watch him carefully in the house when we had birds, but I think going after our pet birds redeemed somewhat the embarrassment he felt when the blue jays abused him. And cats from blocks around came by to beat the crap out of him. I always found clumps of yellow hair in the yard after a fight, never any corresponding gray or black or whatever.

Old Cat continued to be kind over the years, always tolerant of small children, following behind us when we took family walks, and always making sure that anyone who was sad would receive a little extra attention. When he was 17, his health was really failing. He was gaunt and smelly, unable to go outside or to use the litter box consistently, so he lived his days in our basement. His eyes were glassy and his meows were thin and painful. Waiting as long as we could, we finally made the decision to take him to the vet to be euthanized. It was hard, but it was the most merciful thing we could do at that point. My husband and I talked about it, told the kids, and he made the appointment with the vet for the next day. Old Cat was in the kitchen as we discussed it, and in an unusual move, asked to go outside. He hadn't been outside in months, but we were wanting to accommodate him and give him whatever pleasure we could in his final hours. We let him outside and we never saw him again. I'm convinced he went off to die, not wanting to inconvenience us any further, if nothing else just to save us the cost of the euthanization.

We were talking about cats the other day, and decided that we would never have another cat like Old Cat. The two we have now are ridiculous, one so self-centered she's obnoxious and the other so afraid it's annoying. I'm sure they're more typical of cat behavior, but we still miss and cherish the memory of our first pet, the best cat we ever knew, and the most un-catlike cat there ever was.