Pudds of the Past

We always had animals growing up.  Nice was the dog who was anything but to anyone other than us.  Babe was a bear-sized dog who thought she was a lap-dag.  Killer and Bleak were cats who eventually moved into the next door neighbor's house because she fed them better than we did.  Puss-Face was a crazy, bad-ass cat who literally ruled the neighborhood.  These were just a few of the many cats, dogs, hamsters, gerbils and other hodge-podge pets we grew up with. 

Retard (yes, it was a cruel name but fitting for him as a kitten) was my favorite childhood cat.  He attached himself to me in that special way that totally endears our animals to us.  As a kitten, he really was not the brightest bulb in the box.  Once, my brother was running a bubble bath, and the cat was balancing along the edge of the tub, batting at the bubbles as they climbed the tub wall.  He must have decided that the bubbles along the edge weren't good enough, because he then launched himself into the middle of the tub.  I'm fairly certain he had no clue that there was water under all those tantalizing bubbles.  He make a little splash, being a little kitty, and broke the surface looking very surprised.  He paddled somewhat frantically to the edge of the tub, clambered out, and as coolly as a soaked kitty could, he sauntered away from the tub, refusing to even shake himself off.  One of many such events. 

He used to like to run through the apartment and launch himself onto the screen door, much like Garfield would hang on the screen door in the old comics.  Then Mom put the storm glass in.  I happened to be sitting at the table as he came racing into the kitchen and leapt at the "screen".  I never laughed so hard in my life as when he slammed against the glass and then thud onto the floor.  He sat there, staring at the door, pondering what the hell had just happened.  He then looked as if he'd shrugged his shoulders and turned away. 

When I moved out of Mom's house she wanted me to take all of the cats with me.  Retard was an indoor-outdoor cat and I was moving to a second-story apartment.  I was afraid he might try to jump off the balcony to chase after something and was leery of taking him with me.  The parents of a friend of ours has a horse barn and was looking for a hunting cat to keep the rodents out of the barn.  I knew he would be perfect.  I drove the hour to the property, loved on him one last time, and turned him loose.  Then I cried the entire drive back home.  Fourteen years later, as I write this, tears roll down my cheek.  Retard lived a good life in the horse barn.  He was spoiled rotten but his people and loved by the horses ~ not so much by the rodents.

In my adult life, I've had a total of 6 cats and a dog.  Four of the cats and the dog are still with us, though we're pretty sure the old, fat cat and the dog have their days numbered.

My first 2 cats were my babies before I had babies.  We got them while I was still in high school, but Mom made me take them when I moved out.  Tubby and Abby were my girls. 

At her zenith, Tubby weighed in at 25lbs.  She was huge.  For years we thought she was a munchkin because her legs were so short.  When the vet finally put her on a diet and she began to loose weight she suddenly developed these legs!  Her belly was that big.  Tubby was an incredibly lovable teddy-bear type of cat.  She would curl up in the crook of my arm at night, holding onto my arm as I held on to her.  I have never seen a cat with her patience.  When my first son was a toddler, he put her through some paces.  He would "walk" her, holding onto her tail like it was a leash as she walked around the room.  He straddled her once, trying to ride her like a very small horse.  My favorite was when she would be sleeping in a sunbeam, he would crawl over, put his head on her large, pillowesque belly and lie down with her.  Never once did Tubby make an aggressive move toward any of the children in our lives as they poked, prodded and chased her.

Tubby eventually ended up with diabetes, just like grossly overweight people tend to, and was on insulin for that last 3 years of her life.  Eventually, her kidneys failed, and though she was not an outdoor cat, she decided to spare me the heartbreak of finding her lifeless and went off to pass.  Again, years later, I write with tears in my eyes and on my cheeks.

Abigail was the most beautiful Himalayan that ever graced the earth.  Diminutive as the breed goes (she was neglected and malnourished by her first owners), she was quite the little lady, with fur like silk and the face of an angel.  She was not as tolerant of the kids, but she dealt with them by keeping out of their reach.  She would find a lofty perch and observe, never engage.  She was a prissy, compulsive groomer.  When the incision from her spay became infected the vet put her in a cone-collar to keep her from licking.  Unfortunately, it kept her from grooming, too.  In the 2 weeks she was made to wear this collar, Abigail seemed to go bonkers from withdrawl.  She would go through the motions of grooming ~ she would lick the inside of her cone as if grooming her chest or flank, she would lick her paw and wipe the cone as if cleaning her head and ears.  She couldn't keep up with her extensive beauty regime and began to look incredibly scraggly.  The other cats we had at the time tried to help, grooming her as best they could, but she still looked pretty rough.  When the collar finally came off, she sat for literally 2 hours grooming herself ~ then proceeded to cough up the biggest hairball I have ever seen.

Abigail also had her own little health quirk ~ a heart murmur.  The vet estimated that she would live to be about 6.  When Tubby passed before her, Abigail was coming up on her 10th birthday.  Six months after her sister-of-the-heart, Abigail also passed ~ of a lonely broken heart.

For the first time ever in my life, I was without a pet.  We decided to be without for a while, first to let me mourn the loss of my babies, but then to just let our home settle.  But having 2 kids who never knew life without pets, the nagging soon began, and we got the first of our current animals.