About 15 years ago, almost to the date, he was caged at
PetLand in Greensboro, NC, at Friendly Shopping Center. He was “up for adoption”,
for a small fee of $150. I asked the shop clerk “how much did he cost” and he
corrected me that “he is not for sale.
But he is up for adoption, for $150”. He was ugly, if I have ever seen such
a thing as an ugly cat, skinny and had big, ears, full of mites. His eyes were
sleepy. He had gorgeous orange tabby markings with not a speck of white or
other colors in it. He was a true tabby. A true redhead! In more ways than one.
I could tell he was making an extra effort to sit as close
to the middle of the cage, so kids who were poking their skinny fingers to
touch him won’t reach him. I told myself: he will never get adopted! He is too
ugly and he is too old to be a kitten. Not old enough to be quite a cat. And he
looked angry. Annoyed with all the kids’ poking. No one would see a “family cat”
in him, I told myself, as I walked out of the place with my cat food in hand,
and I sighed.
I went home and told my then husband about him. We had $300
in the bank and the mortgage of $750 due in a week.
Two days later, a Saturday, sometime in the fall, my husband
and my then step kids showed up at the door with him in their hands. The ugly
kitten, all mites, bones and ever so soft orange fur was now ours – our second
kitty, after his bigger brother, Fero.
My first reaction was “We cannot afford HIM! We cannot
afford the mortgage this month and you go out and buy a CAT????”. My husband
said: “OK, fine, he has a 48 hour warranty, I am going to return him! Give him
back”.
I had him in my hands, and he was scratching and hissing and
angry. All claws out and clinging onto my skin for dear life! I said: “NO WAY!
He has been through enough already! We’ll love him up to be beautiful!” And the
rest, really, is history!
He never did get a real name. Fero was Fero, and the “little
kitty” we just got became Little Kitty. And on his vet certificate, he is still
Little Kitty. Not just Kitty, but “Little Kitty”.
If God went out to design a perfect mold for a kitty, He
must have fit my Little Kitty in it. He was the softest cat I have ever touched.
The cleanest. The quietest. Like any cat, he was fiercely independent and
stubborn. He liked company on his
terms and he made those terms very clear! By biting, and scratching and
hissing. You always knew his boundaries. And he only had to tell you about them
once.
He was my one true hunter cat! When I lived in a house in
the woods of Summerfield, NC, we had mice. He caught them every time they’d
dare wander through my kitchen, and would bring them to bed, in the middle of
the night, in his mouth, to show me his catch! He was upset when we killed the
mouse. It was his pray to kill, so understandable.
He sneezed, occasionally, because he was allergic to clay, I
found. He was even allergic to almost every brand of litter except two! I tried
using clay bowls for his food – not a good idea! His nose would get as red as
Rudolph’s and it would drip and drip, as he sneezed with all of his body.
He always let Fero be the alpha cat, and always protected
the baby cat, Gypsy. He was stoic, devoted to all his duties and respectful of
everyone’s space, as long as they respected his.
For years, I lived alone, after my divorce. We were all a
team, me and the three kitties. I clipped the nails of the other two cats, but
I could never do it by myself to him. He was impossible to pill or to put in
the cat carrier singlehandedly. It was always a two people’s job. I figured, he
was feral for a while, before he ended up at PetLand. You could tell, he did
not trust people.
He slept with me, for years. But always at the foot of the
bed. Just enough to be close but not enough close where I could touch him. In true
cat fashion, he spited me: with a name like Little Kitty, he grew to be the
largest cat I have ever been owned by.
A very rare sight: Little Kitty bonding with my sister. She was amongst the very few who "got him". And he, her.
Just like I promised him on his first day with me, I loved
him up, I think, to be beautiful. Even gorgeous. He still had dreamy eyes and a
serious look, all of his life, but the mites went away, and he filled into his
large ears and paws.
He never once, that I can remember, got in trouble! He never
broke anything, always groomed religiously, his breath never smelled. His moves
were ever so calculated and slow, just like a tiger, which gained his nickname
in his later life of Richard Parker, the tiger in Life of Pi. He was my tiger. Or “pumpkin”. Or “pinkie”, because of
his pink paw pads. Because of his serious allure, he became “Mr. Kitty” to my
now husband. And lived up to that name. He always kept a low profile. He ate
the longest, because he always took his time, with everything. He was a typical
middle child!
Just like with all my cats, we built a whole life together.
Some people tell me that 15 years is “old” for a cat. To me, 100 would not be
enough! We had to say ‘good bye’ to Mr. Kitty tonight. Just as quietly as he
slipped into my life, he slipped away, on his own, after a two month heroic
battle with kidney failure (I swear Utah water is killing my cats!). He was 15
and 5 months today.
I’ll miss so much about him! His constant presence just
beside me. His long grooming sessions, his lazy an watchful swagger down the
stairs, swinging his fat belly left to right, while sheepishly glancing over
his left shoulder to make sure I am following him. His quiet meow. His habit of
“rearranging” my coasters: he would knock them on the floor, from the table or
the arm rest of the couch. We never quite figured out why just the coasters.
I hope kitties go to heaven and this way he can meet his
brother, Fero, and compare matching bracelets of shaved fur on their paws, from
the IVs they got for their kidney diseases. I hope he runs free, with no one
chasing him down to clip his claws. I hope he makes someone as happy as he’s
made us, and as fulfilled.
He never asked for much. Not even for attention. A bowl of
food, a clean litter box, a bowl of water, and a window with fresh air where he
could watch birds, squirrels and cars.
I’ll miss his presence the most. To me, he was the ultimate symbol
of coming home.
He ended up being so much more than a kitty with no name.
Rest in peace, Little Man! We ache and cry and hope you make another world as
happy as you made ours!
Little Kitty:
May 15, 1999 - October 15, 2014
