Thursday, June 19, 2008

Yup, more cat stuff

Nearly twelve years ago, I decided that I needed a cat. Immediately. It was the day before Thanksgiving and the shelters were closed. One pet store had rescued kittens -- the only cost was for the vaccinations. I immediately fell in love with a gregarious black kitten. He was pretty scraggly but he had charm and charisma. He purred all the time. I really wanted that cat. He kept moving between me and a reticent black kitten at the back of the cage. He'd get rubbed by me, and then he'd groom the kitten and return for more love.

My father constantly reminds cautions against anthropomorphizing, and I know I'm sentimental. Plus, my little sister means the world to me. When I saw that cat looking I after his brother, I knew that both cats were coming home with me. Maybe it should have been a warning sign when the pet store folks bickered about who had to pull the shy kitten from the cage.

As soon as we got home, the shy one disappeared under the couch. For several months, I only saw him as he dashed past me trying to get to another room without human contact. His brother and I were old pals by that time. I named him Trouser. The shy kitty was named Atticus since he was inordinately cautious and prudent. I'd just finished several semesters of Latin and Roman history, and I remembered Cicero's friend Atticus urging Cicero to leave the country to save his life. That pretty much matched the cat I saw lurking under the furniture.

The next year I was married and my husband won a fellowship in creative writing. All the grad students coveted that award because it meant a year to study and write without the burden of teaching classes. Just as dreamed, my husband spent the next year sitting on the couch, reading, writing, and drinking huge quantities of coffee. That was the year that Atticus decided people might be okay. He would sneak up next to my husband and carefully place himself in the same sunbeam. By the end of the year, he was pushing the books and papers off of my husband's lap and taking bites out of notebooks. After another year, he condescended to let me pet him. He took up meowing loudly and often. It's quite a bit like being lectured by a cat.

He and Trouser were good buddies. They romped, snuggled, played and beat the snot out of any other animal that dared to enter their house. In the evening, Trouser sat on my lap and Atticus sat on my husband's lap. Atticus has seemed more fragile since Trouser passed away.

Last week came a trip to the vet. According to the tests, Atticus has kidney disease. He needs to eat special low-protein cat food -- no more regular cat food for him -- and he will probably have some good years left. The kitten is not supposed to eat the low-protein food. Being natural contrarians, they swap food every time they get fed. Atticus' kidney disease would progress more quickly and the kitten might develop problems.

Sometimes doing the right thing is just plain hard. The ex was over on Sunday afternoon and I explained the problem to him. Atticus was so happy to see him that he was practically drooling. Then he walked in figure eights so he could butt his head against me, then the ex, then me. The ex agreed to take Atticus. Tonight I packed up some of the cat toys, the special food, and scratched the kitty as much as he demanded. I cried a little. The ex (and this is why it is impossible to hate him) cried a little. I imagine the two of them will be very happy in a bachelor pad somewhere where the ex still grades lots of papers and spends lots of time reading, writing and drinking very strong coffee. I have even been invited to visit sometimes.

2 comments:

Liz said...

Oh your post resonated for so many reasons. First of all, we rescued a bunch of kittens (and the mom) from our yard several years ago. My oldest daughter named one (he was black!) Atticus; he went home to her then-boyfriend's. We kept one, who we thought was really outgoing, which was great b/c we had two cats already. Nope -- she turned out like your Atticus, very shy. Sometimes she's not, but frequently she is.

One of our other cats sadly developed kidney disease. we recently had to put him down and of course, it was devastating for all of us. A friend gave me a book that a writer wrote to memorialize her own cat, Tatianna and that, believe it or not, has really helped. It's really been a healing book for us, a way to help us manage the grieving process in a healthful and helpful way. It so highlights the bond people have with their pets, by reading about HER bond with HER cat. (And hers was a Siamese mix, and we also have a Siamese.)

J. Denae said...

Oh I am so sorry about Atticus! Oh you have had such a terrible week... we should go out for something good and fattening for dinner tomorrow!!
J