cat – Page 85

One Week

It was a week ago that we first realized something was wrong with Templeton and rushed him to the vet. We picked up his ashes this morning. On the way out the door, I was reminded of the Monty Python skit in which the undertaker tells a young man that they can cremate his dead mother and “then you get a box of ashes, which you can pretend are hers.”

The little tin we picked up (which was surprisingly heavy) has a sticker on the bottom that says the ashes are from a certified private cremation for Templeton, but I have my doubts. As we drove home, no ethereal howls emanated from the tin.

None.

Templeton hated riding in the car. Sometimes before we were married, I’d bring Templeton up to my apartment to visit for a week. When we left my wife’s apartment, he’d already be meowing at full strength. He’d keep it up during the half hour drive, somehow getting louder on the way, so that by the time we pulled into my parking lot the car windows were rattling and passers by were giving me dirty looks.

So you’ll forgive me for thinking that even death couldn’t silence Templeton during a car ride.

On the plus side, Scout has been doing as well as I could hope. She’s clearly bothered by his absence and staying closer to us than normal, but towards the end of the week she’s increasingly been sleeping in her old places. She’s eating and playing and sleeping with us at night. Today’s picture was taken Thursday night while she was curled up in the cat bed beside my desk.

We’ve been talking about the right time to add another cat or two to the household. I’m ready but it’s hard to say about Scout — I think she’ll be happiest with other cats, based on how much she loved having Templeton around, but I don’t want her to think we’re trying to replace him. She has her yearly exam on Monday so we’ll see what the vet thinks.

The upcoming holidays would be a good time since we’d be home as they got used to each other, but we’ll see.

A Gentle Soul

If you were one of the vets who looked after Templeton during his life, “gentle” is not the first word that would come to mind when describing him. Or the second word. Or the third. Or the tenth. Or the … well, you get the idea. He hated going to the vet. It was nothing personal, we had some great ones here in Portland and in Salem, but his personality changed completely and he got very stressed and hostile.

Legends were written. Tales were told.

“My name is Templeton, cat of cats:
Look on my paws, ye mighty, and despair!”

Even at home, he wasn’t too crazy about strangers, particularly young ones. He could run away to a safe spot at home, though, and he certainly mellowed out later in life and would even come up and greet some of our visitors. But with my wife and I, Templeton was gentle and loving, he loved to curl up on our laps and purr like mad. Even so, we weren’t quite sure what he’d make of Scout when we first brought her home in May of 2001, as he had been the only cat for much of his life.

We needn’t have worried.

He didn’t like to cuddle up with Scout, but he did play with her at times, he groomed her, and he just flat out put up with her when she had lots of kitten energy but not lots of kitten sense.

This isn’t the greatest picture, it was taken with a little compact camera, but it illustrates how good he was with her. She had been with us less than two months at this point, and would sometimes spring onto his back like she was a rodeo rider, and then start biting on his head. At this stage, he’d let her get away with it and let her work out her energy. Eventually he started giving her a gentle little wap to the head when she played too rough, training her on how to get along with others, and she came around and stopped the head biting and learned to play nice.

He never lost his love for play, even right up to the end. He lost some muscle mass in his last year or so and certainly couldn’t jump as high as he used to, but he and Scout would still chase each other around the back yard during their supervised outdoor time, and even at fifteen years old he was so fast that he could easily keep up with Scout.

We should all age so well. We should all live so well.

The Great White Belly

Templeton loved his belly rubs. And with that great soft white belly of his, I couldn’t resist giving them.

Sometimes I’d surprise him, he’d be sleeping and roll over to let off some heat, and I’d gently start to rub his belly. Sometimes he’d make kneading motions into the air with his paws, sometimes he’d wrap his arms around mine, always accompanied by that wonderful purr.

Sometimes, though, he’d use his belly to his advantage. The first time Templeton came to live with me was when I was still in school in Virginia but my wife had already moved out to Oregon. Templeton stayed with me for a few months and kept me company while I finished up my dissertation. I’d be working at my desk and out of the corner of my eye, I’d see him walking in my direction. He’d suddenly stop and flop down on his back, exposing his white belly to the world. He’d watch me and wait for his belly rub. If I didn’t get up, he’d hop up, move a few feet closer, and then flop down again and wait for his belly rub.

I never tested how many times he was willing to get up and move closer, even if I managed to resist the first siren’s call he’d usually draw me in by the second or third time.

Today’s picture comes from just before Christmas 2005, just before that awful night when Templeton swallowed a sewing needle. The wooden grate he’s sleeping on has a warm air vent just below it, so it became a favorite location of the cats our first winter here in Portland. Scout discovered the wonders of the grate first, but Templeton quickly learned from her experience.

Akimbo

Yesterday evening I wasn’t sure if I was going to be up to going to work today, but looking at pictures and writing here was cathartic enough that I felt up to it this morning. I managed pretty well for the most part, though at one point I needed a breather and went outside to walk a number of laps around the track. The Canada geese didn’t seem to mind that my eyes were watering.

When I came back in, I sent this picture of Templeton from my laptop to my work account and set it as my background on my second monitor. I normally keep both monitors covered with the applications I’m working with, but I intentionally kept the second monitor clear so I could see Templeton. It’s a large monitor so he was watching over me all afternoon, larger than life.

His gorgeous green eyes seemed to do the trick and I was fine the rest of the day — right up until I walked into the house and there wasn’t a little gray head popping around the door to welcome me home. Scout came running in to meet my like she usually does, so I played with her for a while until I finally got hungry enough to eat something. She slept in her warm bed for a bit before disappearing to sleep in the heating ducts, but has now returned to the warm bed beside me. She’s doing pretty well all things considered.

While looking through some old pictures I found a little movie clip of Scout as a kitten riding on Templeton’s back and biting down on his head. It was taken with a little digital camera that had very low resolution and poor quality, but it made me laugh and certainly shows how tolerant he was with her. Other pictures from the same time show him giving her a bath and cleaning out her ears. Her ears have always been clean thanks to him, so I guess it will be up to us to take over.

I’ll post the picture of her biting on Templeton’s head at some point (it’s a shame I took it with our little camera instead of the SLR, but I didn’t have much warning and thankfully she grew out of her head biting phase). Today’s picture is a little more serene and another one from 2001, Templeton zonked out in my window seat, legs all akimbo. I chose this one today because it reflected a change in his attitude towards me.

I first met Templeton back when I met my wife, and at first he was a little jealous of the attention I was getting, so he’d nip my ankles and then run off. That only lasted for a day or two, he quickly realized that I loved to play with him and so we became partners in crime.

After my wife and I got married a few years later and moved in together, I got to see Templeton every day. At first he still thought of me as the one to play with and my wife the one to go up and snuggle with when he was ready to sleep. But as the months progressed, he came to see me as someone to curl up next to as well. I eventually put a pillow on my desk so he could curl up beside me, but sometimes the quilts on the window seat were just as inviting.

Templeton didn’t open up so completely to just anyone, so I was thankful for times like these when he chose to be near me. To fully appreciate the picture, you’ll have to purr happily to yourself. He had a lovely loud purr and wasn’t shy about using it when he was with those he loved.

Remembrance

Today’s been an emotional roller coaster. When I awoke from the comfort of sleep this morning, I thought I was going to be OK. And I was for a while, but as the day wore on Templeton’s absence was too hard to ignore — Christmas was one of his favorite times.

I put up the Christmas tree yesterday, and that was the first time I realized something was wrong with Templeton. He loved the tree and the big box it came in, and when he didn’t come upstairs while I assembled it, I went down to get him. He wasn’t interested in the tree and was all hunched over when he walked — we left for the vet a little while later. In the space of a few hours I went from thinking he was fine to holding him as he died.

Today we decorated the tree and put up the rest of the Christmas decorations. There was the nativity set he loved to stick his head in, the ornaments he liked to play with, the tree he liked to sleep under and the tree skirt he loved to sleep on (and hack up hairballs on), the decoration that he’d chew on if we didn’t watch him, the wrapping paper he loved to play on.

Normally when I’m upset I like to snuggle up with Templeton — he loved to snuggle and would emit this wonderful purr that helped me relax. He was just so happy when he was with the ones he loved. I wish I could do that now.

I’m working on a novel in which the pets of my life are the major characters — Templeton of course is one of the main characters in the first story. One of the joys of writing is that these characters have lived in my head for the past couple of years, a mixture of the pets in real life and the characters from the story, and thinking about them has helped me when I’m down. One of the central themes of the story is dealing with loss, so they have come in useful over the past year.

Those voices have been silenced temporarily, as the present loss overwhelms my thoughts, but in the long term I know they will return. One of the characters is based on a dog named Ginger that we had when I was in college but who died very young, it’s been a joy to have her character from the book bring that lovely little dog back into remembrance on a daily basis.

I know someday soon the same will be true for Templeton, but for now it is time to grieve.

Yesterday’s picture was from January 2001 when we lived in Keizer, Templeton was playing with one of his catnip bags and took a momentary break. I had just gotten my first digital camera the week before at Christmas, so it’s one of my earliest digital pictures.

Today’s picture is from December 2004 and taken at our house here in Portland, he’s watching the Christ child in the nativity set.

Templeton 1992-2007

Everything seemed normal yesterday. Templeton died in our arms tonight.

We arrived home yesterday from a trip back east to attend my grandmother’s funeral, and Templeton ran to meet us at the door, much like when he waits by the door to greet me when I come home from work.

He seemed fine yesterday, but he was having problems this evening so we rushed him down to DoveLewis Emergency Animal Hospital (the same folks who performed surgery to remove the sewing needle he swallowed a couple of years ago). The x-rays showed a mass that was making it difficult for him to breathe, and since he wasn’t going to be able to get enough oxygen, they gave him an injection and he died peacefully in our arms.

It’s a sad night for us and I feel miserable, but I’m thankful that he didn’t suffer and I’m very thankful for the fifteen wonderful years he spent with us. He was as magnificent a little creature as I’ve ever known.

Goodbye, little one, and thank you.

Fleabitis

About a month ago, Scout’s normal herky-jerky grooming moves suddenly got too aggressive and she started pulling out her fur in clumps. A quick trip to the vet revealed that she had gotten a couple of flea bites during her outdoor playtime, and apparently Scout is extremely allergic to the bites. She got a flea treatment and a steroid injection (and can now lift a car over her head), it took about a week but she did return to normal. The hair has started to grow back on her belly and tail, but it will be a little thin for a while yet.

NOTE: If you’re looking for info on the medical condition fleabitis and not a joke about my cat’s flea allergy, it’s actually spelled phlebitis, and you can find more info on it at places like the Mayo Clinic or any other source of medical info on the web.

A Familiar Conversation

Whenever I’m editing pictures of Templeton and he walks by, we always have a similar conversation. As he casually saunters by, he’ll stop and stare at the monitor. “Oh my goodness, that cat is gorgeous!”

I say nothing.

He turns and says, “I mean all cats are good looking, but this one is just beautiful — did you take this picture?”

“You know that it’s you!”

Templeton squints at the monitor. “It is me!”

“Pride comes before a fall, little one.”

“A falling cat always lands on its feet.”

“Touché.”

Me & T

After a lifetime of being a night owl, am I becoming a morning person?

Despite going to bed and getting up earlier these last few months, I wouldn’t go that far. But mornings have become one of my favorite times of the day. Templeton has been hanging out in my office all summer, sleeping in my chair at night and often cuddling up with me in the evenings. But then he started curling up with me in the mornings while I’m having breakfast, often circling my chair and murmuring to himself while he waits impatiently for me to get settled.

After I finally sit down, he hops up into my lap and softly purrs for the next half hour, one of those beautiful little slices of nirvana that you hope will never end. Those moments do end, it’s off to work and my time with the cats has to wait until I get home, when Templeton sticks his little gray head around the door as soon as it opens and Scout comes running downstairs to welcome me home.

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