Sunday, May 15, 2005

The cat who said good morning Bobby is gone, and we are heartbroken. I never would have guessed I would feel this way about a cat, but Bobby was a special cat. If normal cats have nine lives, Bobby had at least a dozen. He survived so many close calls in the 15 years he spent with us, it's hard to believe he is gone. He was as laid back a creature as I have ever known. He enjoyed riding in the car and loved trips to the vet. The noise of a vacuum cleaner didn't bother him a bit, and you could even vacuum him with a soft brush. Loud noises hardly made him lift his head, but I suppose a rollover, complete with screeching brakes, shattering glass and the grinding of metal on gravel was too much for even his calm nervous system to handle. Today, we were looking at photos of the wreck taken by the firefighters who came to our rescue, and it became apparent that the car and trailer must have rolled over one and a quarter times instead of simply falling on one side, as I had believed from the beginning. No wonder Bobby freaked out! Was he thrown through a broken window? Or did he jump through one as the car came to a halt? There was no evidence either way, and I guess we'll never know. Many years ago, when Shivani was away on a trip, I was lying in bed early one morning, when I heard a voice distinctly say, "Good morning. How are you?" I opened one eye and saw Bobby walking into the bedroom. Now that I was awake, the voice simply said "Meow." Had I been dreaming? Perhaps, but the words had been so clear. Was Bobby speaking English, or had I slipped into a nether state where I could understand cat? Either way, Bobby and I were the only ones in the room, and he was standing there, as if expecting an answer. If he had spoken English, he never let on and never did it again, but from that moment, I had a special feeling for this cat that had come into our lives the way most cats do. A friend, a realtor, had found him in an empty duplex she was showing and adopted him. When he needed more attention than she could give him, she asked if we would like him and brought him over for a trial visit. He arrived in her arms, hanging limp and looking around with that disinterested gaze we came to know well. He must have known this was his one chance. When she handed him to me, he gently hugged my head and began licking my hair -- a trait he never gave up. We took him on the spot, but changed his name from Oscar to Bobby because he looked like a bobcat with a long tail. He wanted so badly to make friends with Shivani's black cat, Minnow, but she would have nothing to do with him, so we went to the Ozaukee Humane Society and found him a girlfriend, a gray-and-white female about his age. We named her Anna, after brother Pete's younger daughter. Bobby loved to groom Anna, and often licked her head and back with great care and attention. She let him do it, but never returned the favor. They would lie together for hours, like sated lovers, he holding her in a tender embrace. When she'd had enough, she would get up and walk away. After Bobby contracted jaw cancer a little over a year ago, they spent less time together. You could tell when he was feeling better because he would cozy up to her as he had done for years. She has always remained aloof. We wonder if she misses him now? Bobby survived two major mishaps that could have killed him but didn't. Once, he came home dragging his hindquarters on a day when a crop duster was spraying nearby farm fields. We got information on the chemicals used from the crop duster and rushed him to the emergency veterinary clinic in Milwaukee, where the vets refused to believe there might be a chemical problem and instead diagnosed an "idiopathic" illness (meaning something he contracted spontaneousely on his own). They sent us home with a bill pushing $400 and instructions to keep an eye on him. In a few days, he began walking again, so we assumed the toxins had worked through his body. Another time, he showed up with one hind leg "flat," from an apparent Achilles tendon injury. How he did it, we never figured out. This time, we took him to another vet. After exploratory surgery, the vet wanted to remove his leg, saying there was a three-inch gap in his tendon. Shivani told him to sew it back up, so he did, splinting it with what looked like a mini canoe paddle. For weeks, Bobby flaopped around with that paddle on his leg. Shivani gave him polarity treatments daily and maybe some other work that I don't recall. When we took the splint off, his leg was fine. After a short home rehab session, where he regained his strength, we took him back to show the vet and he jumped up onto the table. As he grew older, Bobby mainly hung out by the woodstove in winter and a sunny patch of carpet the rest of the year. A little over a year ago, he stopped eating and Shivani found a lump under his jaw. Our nw (and trusted) vet diagnosed jaw cancer and said most cats with that are dead within weeks because they refuse to eat. Again, Shivani dove into alternative treatment and, with the help of a homepathic vet on the West Coast and another alternative health specialist, nursed him into an apparent recovery. That's why he was traveling with us, rather than staying at home with our house/cat sitter. Shivani was treating him four times daily and feeding him organic raw beef, turkey and egg, along with some special enzymes she could tell you more about. Fourteen months after his terminal diagnosis, he was eating well and apparently working through the cancer. Then he jumped ship when the Explorer rolled over. (For details, see "On the Road" over to the right --->) Our vet from California suggested Bobby was ready to move on, to come back in a more evolved state perhaps. I'm just sad that the cat who said good morning left without saying good-bye. Later... 9:56:17 PM    comment []