What a Zoo!: Accidental Cat

Dear PJ,

We had to say goodbye to you yesterday. You were part of our family for twelve years, and I want you to know they were great years.

I call you the accidental cat because we weren't planning on getting another cat. We had lost Piglet in May and Winnie was gone three months later. It was a rough year. I don't know why I went to PetSmart that day. Maybe we needed some dog food, or maybe the house was just too still and quiet to sit there any longer.

I walked to the adoption center, as I always do, and you were there, sitting out with your foster mom. She had you on a leash and oh my goodness you overflowed with personality and charm. I called the other mama and asked her to meet me there so she could meet you. I see now it was too soon to bring a new cat into our lives, but then you did a hand stand in your kennel, and I melted. I convinced the other mama that we needed you, and she let me take you home.

When we got home and I let you out of the cardboard carrier, you exploded. You ran from one end of the house to the other, exploring every inch of your new home. You climbed on my bookshelf, knocking over books and pictures. You crawled under the beds and jumped in every window you could. Only one word could describe what you felt.

Joy.

Scout, on the other hand, was pissed. He wasn't ready for another cat, either, especially a youngster who had two modes: run and eat. He made it clear to you pretty early on that he was in charge, and you didn't mind. You were a pretty laid back kitty from the start.

The Pecking Order

Scout somehow let you know that I belonged to him, so you gravitated towards the other mama. You would "nest" on her cheeks, neck, arms, any exposed skin you could get your paws on. For the longest time, I thought you didn't like me very much, but after Scout went to the Rainbow Bridge, you started to love on me, too.

PJ's First Picture 08-06-2003

Your name was Tucker when we adopted you, but with your ears that were too big for your head and long skinny back legs that were too tall for your body and four white paws, I thought you looked like a hillbilly wearing long johns, so we changed your first name to Pajamas, PJ for short, and hung on to Tucker as your middle name and a nod to the lady who rescued you from the streets.

Mr. Big Ears

We kept the dogs separated with an indoor fence, but you hopped right over it and forced your way into Max and Katy's lives, too. Katy became your puppy, your best friend.

Best Buds

You liked just about everything, except being carried around and kisses. If you pestered us, the one sure way to get you to leave us alone was to kiss you on top of your head. You loved the color pink. You played a little bit with all your toys, but if there was a pink one in the bunch, you played with that one first and longest, until it got "lost" under a piece of furniture or pushed under the pantry door. Retrieving it was the equivalent of discovering lost treasure.

You loved belly rubs and you would often plop down in front of us and roll over on your back to entice us to scratch your tummy.

"Bringing Sexy Back"

We would laugh and say you were "bringing sexy back" as we scratched your tummy until you had your fill and scooted away.

You were such a smart kitty. We had to put child safety latches on the kitchen cabinets because you learned how to open the doors. We moved toys we'd stored in a drawer because you learned how to open those, too. We put a eye/hook on the door to the garage because you managed to figure out that if you grabbed the door knob with both paws, and wiggled it, you could coax open the door and explore the garage. And who could forget the day I thought I'd lost you, and then found you exploring the attic?

You climbed on countertops, the refrigerator, shelves, window ledges, cabinet tops, and closet tops. You had an affinity for laundry: hanging out in the dryer or in the laundry basket. We couldn't let you out on the atrium because you would try to jump over the wall. And I'm pretty sure you ate one of our bettas, which mysteriously disappeared one day without a trace. You even managed to injure yourself on one of your adventures. No lizard was safe in the house, but we managed to rescue a few of them from your clutches over the years.

On top of the fridge

Man, Scout is really good at hide and seek!

The high ground in the utility room

Checking out the mantle

Great view from above the linen closet

Ooh I can see far!

Just a quality control inspection

Hey Mom! This light bulb is out!

I always lose at hide and seek

This is the softest towel EVER!

I think I heard a noise up here...

Just practicing for my circus audition

No cats were actually cooked...

Dreaming of dinner?

Plotting his escape

Just exploring

What do you mean, I don't belong back here? I fit....

Eventually, Scout accepted the fact that you weren't leaving, and a truce was made. Everything was good for a while.

Napping

Then Katy got sick, and we had to give her a lot of attention. You didn't mind. You'd sit next to us as we fed her and slept with whoever had to spend the night on the sofa with her.

Then Scout got sick, and somewhere in between, Max started having seizures, and everyone needed more attention than you. But you didn't seem to mind one bit. You were just a laid back, cool cat.

Maybe you knew we couldn't handle the stress of another sick animal, so you never got sick. I thought for sure you would be the one: the robopet that lived for twenty years. So we troddled along in our life. You continued to find mischief and cuddled your way out of trouble. You helped us get over losing Katy, and a couple of years later did the same when Scout went to the Rainbow Bridge. About a year later, we turned the world upside down and brought home kittens.

You weren't very fond of Liz and Celesto. Our laid back, cool cat was suddenly uptight and grumpy. I know it was a shock to discover that you weren't the only cat in existence, but they had each other and left you alone most of the time. Eventually, you figured out they were here to stay and accepted their existence. You even played with them from time to time and you taught them how to hunt and catch lizards.

Our routine was back to normal.

Sunday morning we took a nap together on the sofa to claim back the hour that the government stole from us. Later in the day, I popped open a couple of cans of wet food for you and your sisters. Afterward, we took another nap and I woke up to your loud purr. I scratched your chin and then your ears and you purred even louder. That evening, I pulled out the catnip and tossed out a few catnip-scented fluffy balls for you to play with. It was a good day.

Monday morning, you didn't show up for breakfast. We found you in the front bathroom, alone. We tried to give you some food, but you weren't interested. I opened up another can of wet food, but you declined to eat that, too. We decided it would be best to take you in to the vet. The vet couldn't find anything obvious, so he ordered some blood tests, gave you some fluids, and sent you home with us.

Thinking back, you were probably sick for a long time, but we never noticed, because you cuddled and played and ate and purred.

You were restless for most of the afternoon. We were thrilled when you finally settled down for a nap. Monday night, we shut you in the bathroom so the kittens wouldn't bother you. Tuesday morning, we saw that you had eaten most of the treats we had left for you. Thrilled, we got you some more, and you munched that down too. Then the waiting began again. You went back into the carrier to nap. I checked on you periodically, and you didn't fight me, but you didn't follow me out either.

Then the vet called. You were sick, very sick. You had diabetes and a horribly bad case of pancreatitis, off the charts bad. They were referring you to specialists, the same place we took Scout when he got sick. The other mama and I talked about it, and we decided that no, we wouldn't make you go to the hospital and get poked and prodded some more. We weren't going to torture you with twice daily insulin shots and fluid intake so that we could have you around for a few more months. We let things go on too long for Piglet, Katy, and Scout and regretted it. We didn't want to do the same thing to you. You were tired. We had to let you go.

My mind started spinning out of control. This was your last day, and it was already half over. This wasn't fair. I wanted one more good day. A day where we could take a nap, and I'd give you your favorite wet food and I'd scratch your chin and you'd purr and I'd scratch your ears and you'd purr even louder and I'd give you catnip and I realized...

You gave me your last good day on Sunday.

Thank you.

We made your memory stone. I put a bunch of pink stones on it. I thought you would like that. I'll put it next to Katy's and Scout's memory stones. I know you're hanging out with them now and having a great time.

Now it's the day after, and we're trodding along, trying to find some normal in this vacuum your absence has created. The house is once again quiet and still. It's weird not having you here curled up on the sofa or begging for a belly rub.

But last night, Liz climbed up on the sofa next to me and took a nap while I petted her. Celesto curled up on the other mama's lap and purred. Maybe these kittens that you taught to catch lizards you also taught to take care of us after you were gone.

Maybe you weren't an accidental cat after all.

We will love you always.

We will always miss you.

Rest well. We'll see you at the Bridge one day.