{"id":1130,"date":"2011-06-19T12:00:37","date_gmt":"2011-06-19T20:00:37","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.orcutt.net\/weblog\/?p=1130"},"modified":"2024-02-28T00:09:02","modified_gmt":"2024-02-28T00:09:02","slug":"love-story-to-sweetie","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/love-story-to-sweetie\/","title":{"rendered":"Love Story to Sweetie"},"content":{"rendered":"

WHAT CAN YOU SAY about a 9\u2011year-old girl cat who died?<\/strong><\/p>\n

That she was bright-eyed. And beau\u00adti\u00adful. That she loved Brey\u00aders blue\u00adber\u00adry yogurt. And Cabot ched\u00addar cheese. And me. That she was finicky, which I viewed as evi\u00addence of her refined sense of taste. Once, when I offered her a piece of Jarls\u00adberg, she bat\u00adted it across the kitchen. My kit\u00adty liked her dairy piquant.<\/p>\n

I nev\u00ader learned where I ranked among her favorite things\u2014I might have topped yogurt and cheese, but cer\u00adtain\u00adly not shrimp nor the sum\u00admer sun patch by the slid\u00ading glass door. Many times, Sweet\u00adie was enjoy\u00ading a sun patch when I called her to come lie on Papa. She appeared to work out an algo\u00adrithm of the oppor\u00adtu\u00adni\u00adty costs of leav\u00ading the warm spot, con\u00adclud\u00aded it was more sen\u00adsi\u00adble to stay put, and lay her chin on the floor as final ver\u00addict.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

We met\u2014that is to say I bought her\u2014in a pet store in ritzy Scars\u00addale, New York. \u201cCrit\u00adter Com\u00adforts\u201d was the name. At the front near the check\u00adout was a fenced-in dis\u00adplay of cats and kittens\u2014rescued fer\u00adal cats, dis\u00adcov\u00adered liv\u00ading under\u00adneath a local orphan\u00adage. The dis\u00adplay was the ver\u00adi\u00adta\u00adble bar\u00adgain bin of house cats. A sign offered incen\u00adtives (shots, food, toys) to buy one of these implic\u00adit\u00adly infe\u00adri\u00ador animals\u2014ones lack\u00ading papers, pedi\u00adgree, prove\u00adnance. But none of these things would have mat\u00adtered any\u00adway; I\u2019m a suck\u00ader for the underdog(cat).<\/p>\n

It was mid-morn\u00ading, short\u00adly after feed\u00ading time, and the moth\u00aders and their kit\u00adtens were piled atop each oth\u00ader on car\u00adpet\u00aded perch\u00ades, smushed against the wire fence. They were all dead asleep\u2014except one: a gor\u00adgeous, green-eyed tab\u00adby with minute streaks of orange in her gray-black coat and the stripe pat\u00adtern of a tiger. Unlike most cats, whose faces broad\u00aden out as they get old\u00ader, Sweetie\u2019s always retained its youth\u00adful pro\u00adpor\u00adtions: big eyes and svelte mouth with a paper-white chin. She stood up tall and gazed at me, and as I reached over the fence, she leapt into my hands.<\/p>\n

It was my one and only expe\u00adri\u00adence of love at first sight.<\/p>\n

I walked her around the store, she ensconced in the crook of my arm, shop\u00adping for toys and cat accou\u00adtrements. I remem\u00adber buy\u00ading her a car\u00adpet\u00aded stump with a hol\u00adlow den for sleep\u00ading.<\/a> A car\u00adri\u00ader. Some cat\u00adnip mice and what would even\u00adtu\u00adal\u00adly prove to be her great\u00adest recre\u00adation\u00adal activ\u00adi\u00adty, the one at which she was an unmit\u00adi\u00adgat\u00aded nat\u00adur\u00adal: Feath\u00ader-on-a-Stick. (Feath\u00ader-on-a-Stick includ\u00aded a game I invent\u00aded: \u201cBigjump.\u201d Upon my say\u00ading \u201cBigjump\u201d in a spright\u00adly and encour\u00adag\u00ading tone, Sweet\u00adie would jump to ever-increas\u00ading heights and claw the feath\u00ader to the ground. I once mea\u00adsured her jump\u00ading prowess with a yard\u00adstick and deter\u00admined that in order to pro\u00adpor\u00adtion\u00adal\u00adly repli\u00adcate her feats, Michael Jor\u00addan need\u00aded to have a ver\u00adti\u00adcal leap of 20 feet.)<\/p>\n

Of course the five dol\u00adlars per spare feath\u00ader was out\u00adra\u00adgeous, lat\u00ader prompt\u00ading in me an irra\u00adtional desire to win the lot\u00adtery so I could start my own feath\u00ader-on-a-stick com\u00adpa\u00adny and dri\u00adve this one out of busi\u00adness, but for the moment all I cared about was show\u00ader\u00ading affec\u00adtion on my new writ\u00ading com\u00adpan\u00adion, so I bought everything\u2014including food and food dish\u00ades and brush\u00ades and bit\u00adter apple deter\u00adrent spray\u2014as well as three extra feath\u00aders.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

The cat was my wife\u2019s idea. It was Novem\u00adber 2001. After 9\/11, I had tak\u00aden a vol\u00adun\u00adtary sev\u00ader\u00adance pack\u00adage from a Man\u00adhat\u00adtan finan\u00adcial ser\u00advices firm, and with Alexas\u2019s bless\u00ading was focus\u00ading full-time on my writ\u00ading. Pri\u00ador to this, I had wedged writ\u00ading into my days John Grisham-style: before work, dur\u00ading train and sub\u00adway rides, dur\u00ading lunch alone in the gourmet cor\u00adpo\u00adrate cafe\u00adte\u00adria, dur\u00ading soporif\u00adic meet\u00adings to stay awake.<\/p>\n

Alexas had insist\u00aded on a com\u00adpan\u00adion for me part\u00adly because of the long hours I would be home alone dur\u00ading the week, but also because a few years ear\u00adli\u00ader I was diag\u00adnosed man\u00adic-depres\u00adsive, specif\u00adi\u00adcal\u00adly Bipo\u00adlar II. Alexas had read about the ther\u00ada\u00adpeu\u00adtic effects of pets on the men\u00adtal\u00adly ill. Get\u00adting a cat, she argued, would soothe my own sav\u00adage beast by giv\u00ading me some\u00adthing to care for. (It would also pre\u00advent my becom\u00ading a solip\u00adsist, I added.) And for sev\u00ader\u00adal years this strat\u00ade\u00adgy worked\u2014in the ear\u00adly months espe\u00adcial\u00adly. Between writ\u00ading sto\u00adries and sub\u00admit\u00adting them and get\u00adting the mail and burn\u00ading the rejec\u00adtions and flush\u00ading the cin\u00adders down the toi\u00adlet, I had kit\u00adten duty to attend to, which includ\u00aded being ubiq\u00adui\u00adtous and forth\u00adcom\u00ading with copi\u00adous no\u2019s when I caught her bit\u00ading on elec\u00adtri\u00adcal cords or scrunch\u00ading into dan\u00adger\u00adous\u00adly tight spaces.<\/p>\n

<\/a>Since my bipo\u00adlar meds made me tired\u2014even more so dur\u00ading a depres\u00adsive cycle, which last\u00aded from two days to two months\u2014I took a nap every after\u00adnoon. Hav\u00ading always slept flat on my back, I allowed Sweet\u00adie to curl up in the V between my legs. Her nap\u00adtime was invari\u00adably short\u00ader, and with\u00adin an hour I would be awak\u00adened by light, explorato\u00adry foot\u00adsteps on me beneath the blan\u00adket that grad\u00adu\u00adal\u00adly worked their way toward my chest, until her sweet face bur\u00adrowed out from the cov\u00aders. She blinked, licked my cheek and curled up, purring\u2014all 2 pounds of her\u2014atop my beat\u00ading heart.<\/p>\n

Feath\u00ader-on-a-Stick, Bigjump, and aquar\u00adi\u00adum fish-watch\u00ading were her pre\u00adferred activ\u00adi\u00adties in the ear\u00adly years, although we even\u00adtu\u00adal\u00adly had to get rid of the aquar\u00adi\u00adum. Sweet\u00adie had fig\u00adured out how to flip open the top hatch, try\u00ading, albeit unsuc\u00adcess\u00adful\u00adly, to catch her\u00adself a snack.<\/p>\n

It was around this time that I start\u00aded to under\u00adstand the ques\u00adtions and respons\u00ades implic\u00adit in Sweetie\u2019s meows. From the begin\u00adning she employed a full palette of cat com\u00admu\u00adni\u00adca\u00adtion tech\u00adniques: sharp, plain\u00adtive meows with sus\u00adtained, scold\u00ading eye con\u00adtact (usu\u00adal\u00adly used when I had done some\u00adthing wrong, like being away for sev\u00ader\u00adal hours); <\/a>bright, con\u00adtent\u00aded chirrups; and the cal\u00adcu\u00adlat\u00aded\u00adly adorable \u201csilent meow\u201d\u2014used when\u00adev\u00ader she want\u00aded my atten\u00adtion but knew I was work\u00ading. Also in her array of sub\u00adtle tricks were the \u201ctail hug,\u201d where\u00adin she curled the tip of her tail into the crook behind my knee; the claw\u00adless paw-tap; the head-bunt; the flop-down; the eras\u00ader-bat (she did not<\/em> like pink pen\u00adcil erasers for some rea\u00adson); the qui\u00adet stare, which by its unwa\u00adver\u00ading inten\u00adsi\u00adty was her equiv\u00ada\u00adlent of shout\u00ading; and what I termed the \u201clah-dee-dah\u201d\u2014her brazen\u00adly saun\u00adter\u00ading across my desk in front of me, usu\u00adal\u00adly while I stared out the win\u00addow or at a sheet of paper in my type\u00adwriter. Some\u00adtimes she even went so far as to walk across the key\u00adboard.<\/p>\n

I should men\u00adtion how she got her name. Easy: the day I brought her home, after I had observed her for hours and noticed her sweet, grate\u00adful dis\u00adpo\u00adsi\u00adtion, I said to Alexas, \u201cShe\u2019s so sweet,\u201d to which she replied, \u201cThat\u2019s it! Let\u2019s call her Sweet\u00adie.\u201d And there you have it.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

As with all pet own\u00aders, we had our share of close calls. Like the time Alexas and I were stand\u00ading at our 3rd floor apart\u00adment win\u00addow, which was open and screen-less. Sweet\u00adie, spy\u00ading her first bird in the tree out\u00adside, sprung for it. Mirac\u00adu\u00adlous\u00adly, I caught her in midair. After that we nev\u00ader opened a win\u00addow that lacked screens.<\/p>\n

Then there was the D.C. Affair.<\/p>\n

Sweet\u00adie had been in our lives for two or three years when Alexas\u2019 moth\u00ader invit\u00aded us down to Wash\u00ading\u00adton, D.C. for a long week\u00adend. I wasn\u2019t com\u00adfort\u00adable leav\u00ading the kit\u00adty alone, we couldn\u2019t find pet care on short notice, and I was damned if my pre\u00adcious girl was going to be jailed in a ken\u00adnel, so we brought her along. <\/a>Not that this was her first trip. She had gone to the house in Maine, to my sister\u2019s wed\u00adding, even to Get\u00adtys\u00adburg, but some\u00adthing about D.C. freaked her out. (Dubya was in office at the time, so we\u2019ll blame him.) The first day wasn\u2019t an issue because we arrived late in the after\u00adnoon, ate din\u00adner, and went to bed. The next morn\u00ading, how\u00adev\u00ader, Alexas and I rose ear\u00adly and took a fer\u00adry down the Potomac to Mount Ver\u00adnon. Sweet\u00adie, of course, stayed in the hotel room, where Alexas had set up trav\u00adel-sized food sta\u00adtions and a lit\u00adter\u00adbox.<\/p>\n

When we returned from George Washington\u2019s home, Sweet\u00adie was gone. We looked every\u00adwhere in the hotel room, scoured the hall\u00adways and stair\u00adwells call\u00ading her name, tracked down the man\u00adag\u00ader, and cross-exam\u00adined the maid (we had left a promi\u00adnent DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door)\u2014all to no avail.<\/p>\n

Final\u00adly, about three hours lat\u00ader, after search\u00ading and imag\u00adin\u00ading fright\u00adful things, like her being dumped down the laun\u00addry chute with the dirty linens, in my great\u00adest Sher\u00adlock Holmes moment ever, with Alexas, my in-laws, the man\u00adag\u00ader and the maid rapt before me, I strode to the hotel room win\u00addow (where I was dra\u00admat\u00adi\u00adcal\u00adly back\u00adlit), spun around and declared, \u201cOnce you have elim\u00adi\u00adnat\u00aded the impos\u00adsi\u00adble, what\u00adev\u00ader remains, how\u00adev\u00ader improb\u00ada\u00adble, must be the truth!\u201d I yanked the mat\u00adtress off the bed and heaved up the boxspring. There, cow\u00ader\u00ading in a hole in the fab\u00adric, was Sweet\u00adie. She meowed at me\u2014a half-scold\u00ading, half-hor\u00adri\u00adfied meow that seemed to say, \u201cWhere <\/em>were<\/em> you? First you leave me in this lit\u00adtle hotel room with no win\u00addow perch, then you\u2019re gone <\/em>all day<\/em>. I\u2019m very upset with you, Papa!\u201d <\/em>I kissed her and put her in the car\u00adri\u00ader.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

How\u00adev\u00ader my and Sweetie\u2019s rela\u00adtion\u00adship as Papa and kit\u00adty became indeli\u00adble much ear\u00adli\u00ader than that\u2014within a cou\u00adple months of get\u00adting her.<\/p>\n

It was Christ\u00admas Day, 2001. The fam\u00adi\u00adly, includ\u00ading Alexas and me, my par\u00adents and younger sis\u00adter, were spend\u00ading the hol\u00adi\u00adday at our vaca\u00adtion house in Maine. Two days ear\u00adli\u00ader, a bliz\u00adzard had cloaked the coun\u00adtry\u00adside in a foot of snow.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s Christ\u00admas after\u00adnoon. To give the fire a bet\u00adter draw, my father opens the door to the porch. After a few min\u00adutes I notice the door is open and ask, \u201cWhere\u2019s Sweet\u00adie?\u201d Instant\u00adly his face match\u00ades the snow out\u00adside.<\/p>\n

\u201cJeezis,\u201d he says, \u201cshe couldn\u2019t of got\u00adten out! I only had it open a minute or two.\u201d<\/p>\n

I go to the door and throw it open. Sure enough, a tot\u00adter\u00ading trail of tiny foot\u00adprints heads out the door, breaks through the crust on the foot-deep snow, and dis\u00adap\u00adpears off the porch. I glance at the out\u00addoor ther\u00admome\u00adter: 5\u00baF\u2014scary cold, and if you\u2019re a kit\u00adten, death\u00adly cold. It\u2019s three o\u2019clock, which means one, maybe two hours of decent day\u00adlight left. Des\u00adper\u00adate to find her, I run out\u00adside in my socks and a sweater.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

I knew that adult fer\u00adal cats were capa\u00adble of sur\u00adviv\u00ading out\u00adside in win\u00adter, but a 12\u201315-week-old kit\u00adten, alone? Trudg\u00ading through the snow, I feared the worst, expect\u00ading any moment to find her frozen stiff or buried in a deep pock\u00adet of snow and suf\u00adfo\u00adcat\u00aded. Her tracks were faint, and a wind was start\u00ading to come up, blow\u00ading away the loose pow\u00adder atop the crust. If I didn\u2019t find her soon, I would lose my one and only chance.<\/p>\n

Before the wind erased her paw prints, I fol\u00adlowed them across our back\u00adyard, towards a small gul\u00adly between our prop\u00ader\u00adty and the next-door neigh\u00adbors\u2019. I squat\u00adted down and noticed that the snow on the oppo\u00adsite bank was dis\u00adturbed, like some\u00adthing had clawed its way up. Peer\u00ading over the bank, I scanned the hori\u00adzon from her perspective\u2014inches off the ground\u2014and asked myself, \u201cIf I were a kitten\u2014cold, dis\u00adori\u00adent\u00aded and seek\u00ading warmth\u2014where would I go?\u201d The only shel\u00adter near\u00adby was a low porch attached to my neigh\u00adbors\u2019 house.<\/p>\n

My fam\u00adi\u00adly had all gone to the front of the house and were call\u00ading the cat\u2019s name, a tac\u00adtic whose val\u00adue I ques\u00adtioned, since Sweet\u00adie had yet to respond to her name with 100% accu\u00adra\u00adcy. By now my feet were freez\u00ading, but there was no time to get my boots. The sun was low in the sky, throw\u00ading deep blue shad\u00adows across the snow. I went to the porch, dropped to my stom\u00adach and crawled part\u00adway under\u00adneath, a task com\u00adpli\u00adcat\u00aded by my being 40 pounds over\u00adweight at the time. I man\u00adaged to squeeze in about 6\u2019 before my back ran out of clear\u00adance. A gray light fil\u00adtered in from the one side where the snow hadn\u2019t banked against the porch.<\/p>\n

\u201cSweet\u00adie? Sweet\u00adie, hon\u00adey, where are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I lis\u00adtened. At first I heard only the wind, but as it sub\u00adsided I made out the small\u00adest meow. I couldn\u2019t see any\u00adthing, so I called out again, and she replied again. It was com\u00ading from some\u00adwhere against the house foun\u00adda\u00adtion. I didn\u2019t have a flash\u00adlight. I would have to do this sole\u00adly by ear and feel.<\/p>\n

I kept call\u00ading to her in the dark and hom\u00ading in on her cries, which, like a Geiger counter, grew stronger and faster the clos\u00ader I approached. \u201cPapa, Papa, I\u2019m here,\u201d <\/em>she seemed to say. Claws were scratch\u00ading on met\u00adal. She was lead\u00ading me towards one of those met\u00adal cul\u00adverts around a base\u00adment win\u00addow. I groped around, pray\u00ading I wasn\u2019t about to put my hand into a skunk\u2019s win\u00adter nest, reached into the bowl-like hol\u00adlow, felt a tail, then a wet nose. I pulled her out, backed up and emerged in the half-light with her. She was shiv\u00ader\u00ading. I tucked her under my cash\u00admere sweater against my T\u2011shirt with her head stick\u00ading out of the neck hole. My father marched toward us clutch\u00ading a snow shov\u00adel.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou found her. Thank God.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, let\u2019s go in.\u201d<\/p>\n

I spent the next hour with her by the fire, bundling her in warm tow\u00adels. She was com\u00adplete\u00adly still, unboth\u00adered by being con\u00adfined. In fact, she purred and gazed lov\u00ading\u00adly at me until her eyes became heavy. \u201cYou res\u00adcued me, Papa,\u201d<\/em> her sleepy look said. \u201cSome\u00adday I\u2019ll res\u00adcue you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

She was, by anyone\u2019s def\u00adi\u00adn\u00adi\u00adtion, a fraidy-cat, some\u00adthing for which I am prob\u00ada\u00adbly as much to blame as her genet\u00adics. Even 9 years lat\u00ader, even after car\u00ading for her when we were away, sev\u00ader\u00adal of my friends and rel\u00ada\u00adtives only ever saw her as a dark blur dis\u00adap\u00adpear\u00ading into a clos\u00adet. Some doubt\u00aded that we even had a cat.<\/p>\n

The only two peo\u00adple Sweet\u00adie was con\u00adsis\u00adtent\u00adly unafraid of were me and Alexas. Since she died, I have learned that in order for cats to be effec\u00adtive\u00adly social\u00adized, they need to be around a vari\u00adety of peo\u00adple and situations\u2014two things that Sweet\u00adie did not get in her crit\u00adi\u00adcal first months. The apart\u00adment was qui\u00adet, and, with the excep\u00adtion of the clack\u00ading of a type\u00adwriter or my swear\u00ading at a recent rejec\u00adtion, I too was qui\u00adet. This meant that when\u00adev\u00ader we had overnight guests, or if rel\u00ada\u00adtives, the build\u00ading super or the UPS guy showed up, she went into pan\u00adic mode, stop\u00adping short behind me and star\u00ading at the door as it opened. Invari\u00adably who\u00adev\u00ader was there fright\u00adened her and she would squat to the floor, elon\u00adgate her\u00adself like a fer\u00adret and scur\u00adry away\u2014a behav\u00adior that struck me as a bit off<\/em>, since plain-old run\u00adning was far more efficient\u2014to one of her many hidey-holes. Her Alamo? A book\u00adcase bot\u00adtom shelf, in the hol\u00adlow space behind some ref\u00ader\u00adence books.<\/p>\n

<\/a>Like oth\u00ader cats, Sweet\u00adie had her idio\u00adsyn\u00adcrasies, some adorable, some exas\u00adper\u00adat\u00ading\u00adly not. For four years after 9\/11, I was an adjunct Eng\u00adlish lec\u00adtur\u00ader at Baruch Col\u00adlege in Man\u00adhat\u00adtan. I rou\u00adtine\u00adly came home with piles of papers to grade, which I spread out next to me on the bed. Sweet\u00adie would join me, and I quick\u00adly dis\u00adcov\u00adered that she enjoyed rolling around on cer\u00adtain stu\u00addents\u2019 work more than oth\u00aders\u2019. Study\u00ading their names, I quick\u00adly deduced the com\u00admon thread: they were my ston\u00aders. When I returned the papers, for fun I some\u00adtimes called those stu\u00addents aside.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo easy on the gan\u00adja, folks,\u201d I said, to which they incred\u00adu\u00adlous\u00adly replied, \u201cWhat? How\u2026how did you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nev\u00ader revealed my secret weapon: Super Sweet\u00adie.<\/p>\n

Some of Sweetie\u2019s oth\u00ader habits may not have been unique to her, but they were no less adorable or annoy\u00ading. Con\u00adtrary to the con\u00adven\u00adtion\u00adal wis\u00addom that says you can\u2019t bathe a cat, <\/a>from the time Sweet\u00adie was a kit\u00adten, Alexas and I used a three-buck\u00adet sys\u00adtem she\u2019d seen on Martha Stew\u00adart to wash her. After we dried her in tow\u00adels, Sweet\u00adie retreat\u00aded to the Alamo for an hour to groom her\u00adself and pout, but when she emerged, her coat full and gleam\u00ading and redo\u00adlent of baby sham\u00adpoo, she strut\u00adted back and forth in front of us, bask\u00ading in our praise: \u201cOh, Papa, look\u2026look at the beau\u00adti\u00adful girl!\u201d<\/p>\n

Not so beau\u00adti\u00adful was her predilec\u00adtion for snack\u00ading on bugs; dis\u00adgust\u00ading is what it was, but Alexas assured me that \u201cit\u2019s what cats do.\u201d I prob\u00ada\u00adbly shouldn\u2019t com\u00adplain, though; her taste for insects may be why I nev\u00ader saw a sin\u00adgle cock\u00adroach in our apart\u00adments.<\/a> Anoth\u00ader habit of hers was annoy\u00ading\u00adly sneaky, yet for some rea\u00adson I respect\u00aded her for it. Before I would acqui\u00adesce to give her some \u201ccheeser\u201d or a piece of shrimp, she had to be stand\u00ading on the din\u00ading table rug, not<\/em> on the kitchen floor. It was still beg\u00adging, but at least this way I wouldn\u2019t trip over her. While she start\u00aded out com\u00adply\u00ading with the new rule, she grad\u00adu\u00adal\u00adly became a liv\u00ading slip\u00adpery slope, worm\u00ading her way out half an inch here, two inch\u00ades there, until only the tip of her tail was on the rug.<\/p>\n

\u201cSweet\u00adie<\/em>,\u201d I\u2019d say.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d chirrup in reply, as if to say, \u201cHey, I <\/em>am<\/em><\/span> on the rug. See my tail, Papa? See<\/span>? Now how\u2019s about some of those shrimps?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

By age three, she began to have prob\u00adlems keep\u00ading her food down. In oth\u00ader words, she puked\u2014three or four times a day. So much that <\/a>we had to buy paper tow\u00adels in bulk. Even\u00adtu\u00adal\u00adly we had to remove all wet food from her diet. Noth\u00ading but the oat\u00admeal of cat food: Sci\u00adence Diet Sen\u00adsi\u00adtive Stom\u00adach. Vet appoint\u00adments were use\u00adless, the trau\u00adma often pro\u00advok\u00ading more puk\u00ading while yield\u00ading no<\/em> answers as to its cause. There were stom\u00adach med\u00adica\u00adtions, thy\u00adroid med\u00adica\u00adtions and more.<\/p>\n

When she turned five or six, the Night Cra\u00adzies start\u00aded.<\/p>\n

From the time Sweet\u00adie was a kit\u00adten, Alexas and I had let her sleep with us, always with\u00adout inci\u00addent. I sleep on my back, with my sock-cov\u00adered feet stick\u00ading out from beneath the cov\u00aders, and appar\u00adent\u00adly, after years of coex\u00adist\u00ading with them, Sweet\u00adie sud\u00adden\u00adly found my feet an irre\u00adsistible temp\u00adta\u00adtion. At three o\u2019clock in the morn\u00ading, she began to pounce on them and bite them. I\u2019m ashamed to admit that I nev\u00ader learned to react with saint\u00adly kind\u00adness and under\u00adstand\u00ading; instead, I would yell death threats, grab the near\u00adest mag\u00ada\u00adzine and chase her out of the room.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Why she did it, I have no idea. She might have been star\u00adtled out of a deep sleep and seen my long, gaunt feet tow\u00ader\u00ading over her (a scary prospect if you knew my feet), or per\u00adhaps like her Papa she was hav\u00ading vio\u00adlent night\u00admares, wak\u00ading up and lash\u00ading out at the near\u00adest threat. Or, maybe she was just bored and bit\u00ading my feet was the most fun a cat could have at 3 a.m. What\u00adev\u00ader the rea\u00adson, as she grew old\u00ader this ten\u00adden\u00adcy became more pro\u00adnounced, as did her wak\u00ading up from naps dis\u00adori\u00adent\u00aded and hiss\u00ading.<\/p>\n

Even\u00adtu\u00adal\u00adly we had to ban her from the bed\u00adroom at night, which may have stopped the bit\u00ading but didn\u2019t change her oth\u00ader night behav\u00adior: con\u00adfused yowl\u00ading, door-scratch\u00ading, and growl\u00ading at things out\u00adside. Sev\u00ader\u00adal times Alexas awoke to see what was the mat\u00adter and to com\u00adfort her, and she nev\u00ader saw what, if any\u00adthing, Sweet\u00adie was react\u00ading to out\u00adside. She appeared to be see\u00ading things. Or not see\u00ading them, as in the case of her beg\u00adging to have food put in her dish when it was already full.<\/p>\n

<\/a>Her increased vocal\u00adiz\u00ading con\u00adtin\u00adued dur\u00ading the day, too, becom\u00ading so fre\u00adquent and irri\u00adtat\u00ading that sev\u00ader\u00adal times I snapped at her to \u201cStop it!\u201d or \u201cWhat is it?\u201d\u2014as if she could tell me. She also became more clingy, want\u00adi\u00adng to lie on me every chance she got, and at first I wel\u00adcomed her attach\u00adment. My fond\u00adest mem\u00ado\u00adries of Sweet\u00adie are of my writ\u00ading in bed and her crawl\u00ading up to lie on my stom\u00adach while I wrote with the clip\u00adboard rest\u00ading on her. She seemed not only con\u00adtent<\/em> to have to share me with my clip\u00adboard and pen\u00adcil, but I think she took a lit\u00adtle pride in her role as clip\u00adboard-hold\u00ader, know\u00ading that she was help\u00ading Papa.<\/p>\n

Many, many times she saved me, too, hop\u00adping on the bed and walk\u00ading ten\u00adta\u00adtive\u00adly over to lie on me. It sad\u00addens me to remem\u00adber that there were a few times when I pushed her away.<\/a> Sweet\u00adie could always sense when I was in a depres\u00adsion and would stay close to me for hours, days, weeks. Once, I was lying on my back, star\u00ading at the ceil\u00ading, seri\u00adous\u00adly con\u00adsid\u00ader\u00ading the best way to com\u00admit sui\u00adcide, when Sweet\u00adie crawled on my chest purring, sat down and licked my nose. One could call it coin\u00adci\u00addence, but I know bet\u00adter. More than once, that lit\u00adtle cat was an instru\u00adment for high\u00ader forces. More than once, Sweet\u00adie saved my life by giv\u00ading me some\u00adthing tangible\u2014herself\u2014to love.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Which is why it broke my heart when the attacks start\u00aded. One morn\u00ading after Sweet\u00adie had been up all night growl\u00ading at imag\u00adi\u00adnary threats out\u00adside, Alexas mim\u00adic\u00adked for me the sounds the cat had made, and Sweet\u00adie tore across the room towards Alexas. I jumped in front of her, and the cat clawed my leg. Shout\u00ading at her, fend\u00ading her off with a chair like a lion-tamer, I even\u00adtu\u00adal\u00adly got her to set\u00adtle down. Lat\u00ader I learned that her behav\u00adior was known as \u201credi\u00adrect\u00aded aggres\u00adsion.\u201d She had become riled up by real or imag\u00adi\u00adnary threats, but being unable to attack the inter\u00adlop\u00ader, she took out her aggres\u00adsion on us instead.<\/p>\n

In my heart I knew that my own mood swings, which are errat\u00adic and often unpro\u00advoked, had con\u00adtributed to her per\u00adpet\u00adu\u00adal ner\u00advous\u00adness and ten\u00adsion. More than one per\u00adson in my life has said that being around me is tan\u00adta\u00admount to walk\u00ading on eggshells, through a mine\u00adfield. So I could almost under\u00adstand why, after 9 years, she final\u00adly snapped and attacked me. Maybe I deserved it. Decid\u00ading that it was an anom\u00adaly, I for\u00adgave her.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Our final morn\u00ading togeth\u00ader began peace\u00adful\u00adly, like the attack at Pearl Har\u00adbor. I awoke at my usu\u00adal time\u20145:00 or 5:30\u2014made cof\u00adfee, wrote, show\u00adered and dressed. It was a few min\u00adutes before 7:00 when Sweet\u00adie hissed out at the patio. The slid\u00ading door was open with the screen in place. Sweet\u00adie was pressed against the screen, star\u00ading and growl\u00ading at the neighbor\u2019s cat. She had nev\u00ader done this before; nei\u00adther at neigh\u00adbor\u00ading dogs nor cats. I let her dri\u00adve the ani\u00admal away, said, \u201cOkay, Sweet\u00adie, you won,\u201d then closed the slid\u00ading door. With\u00adin sec\u00adonds, she sprang at me, scream\u00ading, claw\u00ading, bit\u00ading. She raked my arm, rent my T\u2011shirt down the chest. I threw her off, and she came at me again, this time leap\u00ading at my neck. I slapped her in midair, hit\u00adting her hard in the mouth (and punc\u00adtur\u00ading my hand on her fangs), knock\u00ading her against the kitchen draw\u00aders. Momen\u00adtar\u00adi\u00adly stunned, she poised her\u00adself for anoth\u00ader attack. I reached for the chair and swung it between us. I shout\u00aded at her, she backed away, and I went into the bath\u00adroom.<\/p>\n

As I cleaned and dressed my wounds, I thought about how fero\u00adcious this sec\u00adond attack had been, and my instinct told me some\u00adthing was wrong with her. A wave of nau\u00adsea coursed through me: I would have to put her to sleep.<\/p>\n

What were my oth\u00ader choic\u00ades? Con\u00adtin\u00adue to live with the cat, but in con\u00adstant fear of anoth\u00ader, even worse, attack, and in fear that I would have to hit her even hard\u00ader next time, when hit\u00adting her once had already made me sick? Send her to a \u201chome\u201d for trou\u00adbled ani\u00admals, if such a thing even exists? Con\u00adsult an array of pet ther\u00ada\u00adpists? Put her through a long (and expen\u00adsive) bat\u00adtery of tests, fur\u00adther trau\u00adma\u00adtiz\u00ading her with stays in hos\u00adpi\u00adtal ken\u00adnels, and all with\u00adout any guar\u00adan\u00adtee that it would restore her to her sweet self?<\/p>\n

Observ\u00ading her behav\u00adior over time, it was clear to me that she was suf\u00adfer\u00ading from some\u00adthing, or a com\u00adbi\u00adna\u00adtion of things, that caused the puk\u00ading, the ner\u00advous\u00adness, the hal\u00adlu\u00adci\u00adnat\u00ading, the yowl\u00ading, and the aggres\u00adsion. How\u00adev\u00ader, as is often the case in life, the most eth\u00adi\u00adcal and humane option was per\u00adforce the most dif\u00adfi\u00adcult one.<\/p>\n

Twen\u00adty years ear\u00adli\u00ader, I had tak\u00aden a course on Eth\u00adi\u00adcal Issues in Med\u00adi\u00adcine. As an argu\u00adment in sup\u00adport of euthana\u00adsia <\/a>I posit\u00aded the idea that in addi\u00adtion to pre\u00advent\u00ading her own sus\u00adtained suf\u00adfer\u00ading, a dying patient has the right to deter\u00admine how she will be remem\u00adbered by oth\u00aders. In most cas\u00ades she would not want her suf\u00adfer\u00ading to erode oth\u00aders\u2019 good mem\u00ado\u00adries of her. In the case of Sweet\u00adie, I felt that she had a right to be remem\u00adbered by Alexas and me for her beau\u00adti\u00adful attrib\u00adut\u00ades, not for mak\u00ading us fear\u00adful in her final days.<\/p>\n

I told Alexas of my deci\u00adsion, instruct\u00ading her not to try and talk me out of it. The pain that clutched my stom\u00adach was bad enough to go through once; I wasn\u2019t going through it a sec\u00adond time.<\/p>\n

I think Sweet\u00adie sensed my deci\u00adsion, but she wasn\u2019t fear\u00adful about it. Almost as if to con\u00adsole me for hav\u00ading to make it, she walked over to me and gave me a sus\u00adtained tail-hug. I lay a hand on her side, and we sat there for some time. Inex\u00adplic\u00ada\u00adbly, I had the feel\u00ading that Sweet\u00adie had been try\u00ading for quite a while to com\u00admu\u00adni\u00adcate to me that she was sick and was now relieved to have final\u00adly got\u00adten through to me.<\/p>\n

On the way to the vet with Sweet\u00adie in her car\u00adri\u00ader, I talked to Alexas about the var\u00adi\u00adous options, say\u00ading \u201cthe egg\u201d instead of the cat\u2019s name because I didn\u2019t want to upset her. Alexas agreed that we had only one choice.<\/p>\n

The first avail\u00adable appoint\u00adment was at 10 o\u2019clock. Still not cer\u00adtain about the deci\u00adsion, I drove to a church, went in and prayed. I felt like an exe\u00adcu\u00adtion\u00ader and want\u00aded some sense that I was doing the right thing.<\/p>\n

When I opened my eyes, I had the gut feel\u00ading, the know\u00ading, that Sweet\u00adie was indeed suf\u00adfer\u00ading, that she in fact had a brain tumor. Then, at that pre\u00adcise moment, the church bell tolled nine times.<\/p>\n

Nine times. Nine lives. Nine years old.<\/p>\n

What else I could ask for in terms of con\u00adfir\u00adma\u00adtion?<\/p>\n

The vet\u00aderi\u00adnar\u00adi\u00adan spoke with us for half an hour, dur\u00ading which we described Sweetie\u2019s behav\u00adior of the past sev\u00ader\u00adal months. He con\u00adcurred that there was most like\u00adly a brain tumor at work. The kind\u00adest thing we could do for her was to pain\u00adless\u00adly end her suf\u00adfer\u00ading. We told him to make the prepa\u00adra\u00adtions.<\/p>\n

When we went into the exam\u00adi\u00adna\u00adtion room, Sweet\u00adie lay stretched out on a soft quilt that was tucked in around her back to keep her warm. The doc\u00adtor had admin\u00adis\u00adtered a heavy seda\u00adtive, so while she couldn\u2019t move, he said, she could still hear us. He and the nurse depart\u00aded so we could say our good\u00adbyes.<\/p>\n

Before going in, I had made Alexas promise that we wouldn\u2019t break down in Sweetie\u2019s pres\u00adence. Although the cat was sedat\u00aded, I knew she would still be able to sense our fear or sad\u00adness, and I was deter\u00admined to make her final moments peace\u00adful. <\/a>I placed a hand on her and talked soft\u00adly to her. \u201cPapa loves you, Sweet\u00adie,\u201d I said. \u201cPapa loves you.\u201d I told her how much she had meant to me, and I thanked her for nine won\u00adder\u00adful years of companionship\u2014years that I need\u00aded her more than I ever real\u00adized. Sev\u00ader\u00adal times as I spoke, Sweetie\u2019s mus\u00adcles twitched; Alexas said this was her way of com\u00admu\u00adni\u00adcat\u00ading back to me, and I think she\u2019s right. Then I sang a song to Sweet\u00adie, a lul\u00adla\u00adby I had made up and sung to her when she was a kit\u00adten:<\/p>\n

Sweet\u00adie, O Sweet\u00adie, how\u2019d you get so swee-eet?<\/em><\/address>\n
Sweet\u00adie, O Sweet\u00adie, how\u2019d you get so sweet?<\/em><\/address>\n
Bought you in a pet store,<\/em><\/address>\n
Your friends were sound aslee-eep.<\/em><\/address>\n
Then you jumped into my arms,<\/em><\/address>\n
Now my life\u2019s com\u00adplete.<\/em><\/address>\n

I kissed her, then Alexas kissed her, and the vet\u00aderi\u00adnar\u00adi\u00adan returned. He gen\u00adtly shaved her back leg near the ankle, found a vein and inject\u00aded the strong bar\u00adbi\u00adt\u00adu\u00adate. Alexas and I stood at the side of the table, tight\u00adly hold\u00ading hands and trem\u00adbling, but not cry\u00ading, while the vet checked for breath\u00ading and a pulse. There were nei\u00adther.<\/p>\n

We stayed with her for a few more min\u00adutes. What I most vivid\u00adly remem\u00adber about those final moments is how warm she still was. I pet her belly\u2014something she almost nev\u00ader let me do\u2014expecting, I think, she would sud\u00adden\u00adly come back to life. She didn\u2019t. I kissed her head for the last time and walked out, leav\u00ading instruc\u00adtions with the nurse to donate Sweetie\u2019s car\u00adri\u00ader to anoth\u00ader fam\u00adi\u00adly.<\/p>\n

And then, out\u00adside in the warm and breezy sum\u00admer morn\u00ading, I did some\u00adthing unex\u00adpect\u00aded, some\u00adthing I hadn\u2019t done since my grand\u00adfa\u00adther died, much less in pub\u00adlic.<\/p>\n

I stead\u00adied myself on the walk\u00adway rail\u00ading, stomped my foot at the gods, and wept.<\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Farewell, my beloved feline Muse. Writer Chris Orcut\u00adt\u2019s eulo\u00adgy to his faith\u00adful, beau\u00adti\u00adful cat of 9 years, Sweet\u00adie.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1148,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"wp_typography_post_enhancements_disabled":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1130","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-personal"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1130","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1130"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1130\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9037,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1130\/revisions\/9037"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1148"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1130"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1130"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1130"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}