Historical November–December 1998 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
Joe Cat has gone. You may recall that I was to be only a fill-in writer when Joe Cat felt not up to the task of writing his would-be Times column, ”Cat’s Pause.” That was my “Cat’s Clause.” But Joe Cat has gone. I’m taking over as the Alpha Cat in the mousehold, so you can look forward to hearing from me whenever I feel like it. I’m not letting on that I’ve even noticed that Joe Cat is gone because I think They had something to do with it.
I pretended not to be interested in the freshly dug hole with purrfect rectangular dimensions that the Mister placed between the azalia and the rhotodendum.
I saw Them leave with Joe Cat and return with something like a body in a towel and They were crying and They put flowers on the new mound that They filled up where the freshly dug hole was and They put that little cat statue sitting right there over-looking the spot and I just really think that J. Cat is there.
After they did that, She came in and opened a can of tuna, PEOPLE tuna, for Itty and Me.
We just walked away from that I assure you. Might be poison, might be a consolation prize. Who knows. Today I rejected the food in a bag the Mister brought home too. You just can’t tell what more They might be up to. I’ve been coming when called and getting petted as usual, but I’m off the food, at least until the danger passes. I’ve got to admit that Joe Cat had gone round the bend.
He was a really old guy.
He told me he couldn’t even remember when he arrived here, but it was about sixteen years ago.
She always said he was one of the best cats She ever shared her life with She called him the Ambassador of Cats and really he was.
He never met a cat he didn’t like…or any other creature for that matter.
She used to say She thought Joe Cat was a prince who’d messed up and had to spend another life on earth before he reached Nirvana.
His “call” to Her the day she rescued him from the Humane Society seemed so strong a signal, his rescue so fortuitous, his call so close.
I don’t know about that.
I do know that when I came here as a hand-sized kitten, Joe Cat didn’t even hiss. And as I was growing up in the backyard two summers ago, he protected me from a marauding cat by just going right up to it and lying down between it and me, as if we were all old friends instead of my being a kitten about to get my whiskers curled by Farryl. Joe Cat was like that.
A peace keeper cat.
He never even killed a bug. Couldn’t stand an argument, cat or human.
Now the last night we saw him, he got a bath.
He just hated that, but They insisted and I had to agree because he had raided the trash and covered himself inadvertently in bacon grease, a sure sign that he had gone round the bend. Itty and I were right there when he dumped over the can, and we both made a swipe at things and didn’t get a drop of evidence on our purrfect coats, but Joe Cat looked like he’d jumped into a swimming pool when it was over.
Then he went upstairs and took a nap on Their bed.
I knew that was trouble, even though, in mitigation, he’d chosen something washable and not the blue sofa on which to slather the grease. Joe Cat had gotten pretty disoriented of late and he had not taken any kind of care of his coat for over two years and that’s the truth He had arthritis and thyroid troubles and all, so Itty used to help him out with a little bathing, but this was beyond the pale and called for a pail. Itty and I could both see that.
He sure did yowl though. Set our teeth on edge.
He was always so good at other indignities.
He had had to take thyroid pills for years and he just swallowed them without a fight everyday. Drop them in, zip zap.
But of late, he had had taken to crying in place a lot and She had to call him to remind him of who and where he was. Itty and I sure noticed that. And he wouldn’t play anymore. He’d just cornplain if we tried to entice him with a run and a roll.
He said he just ached too much, just needed as much sun as possible with no hassling after They turned the radiators off for the season. So, I don’t know. I’m lying here looking nonchalant (asleep) while She types this up for me, but I do say things are weird around here without Joe Cat.
I hear that Dr. Steve up at the Kingsbury Animal Hospital is a merciful man to the super elderly in cats and that he takes care of everyone when the time has come.
He did as good a job as can be expected with taking out my claws.
I guess if a cat is going to have no choice in things, Dr. Steve is the best guy around for that situation.
I really do suspect that that’s where Joe Cat went before the Mister placed that little cat statue in the garden by the new mound.
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, November–December 1998.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1998_11.pdf, printed page(s) 4; PDF page(s) 4.
