Yesterday April 15, 2024 tax day we were scheduled to take Kitzhaber (long for Kitz, also the name a former Oregon governor because Kitz wouldn’t have been a good governor either) the cat for his final rites at his vet. Before we took him, I thought he should have a final look from his perch in a second story window before he met his fate. When I picked up the poor guy he yelped in pain and died shortly after I put him back down. Sharon had suggested we take him in the previous Friday, but I selfishly wanted a little more time with my doomed friend. This was less than a month after my only sibling died, leaving me sad and the only remaining member of my blood nuclear family.

Today I have had feelings that I would see him in one of his favorite places – various chairs, one of the beds, Sharon’s lap, or his upstairs or downstairs places where he could view the outside world from which he been banned. We have been closing doors to keep him from escaping which he hadn’t tried in years. Magical thinking. Sharon put down some clothing on the bed that he liked to nap on.

Backup. In 2013 after our rescue cat Harriet the hairy pet had died, we thought we shouldn’t have another cat, because of the sadness when they died, and the restrictions they put on us. We felt that we should finally be free to travel without accounting for a furry family member. Friends of ours at a retirement home needed a home for a cat whose person had started dementia. After we said no four times we relented and brought Honey (whose name I changed), a big, fat (fifteen pound) roughly five year old male. He was the first cat that I thought might outlive me.

Kitz wanted nothing to do with these new people, or his new home. He considered himself an indoor / outdoor cat that could come and go as he pleased. Shortly after he arrived, he broke through a screen on his upstairs window perch, rolled down the roof, and took off. We could not find him.

While Sharon was visiting family in Michigan, we found out he was stealing food from a cat across the street. I got a raccoon trap from a local pet shop, baited it, caught him and brought him home. We didn’t allow him access to that screen again. We didn’t want Kitz to be run over or eaten by a local coyote, and didn’t want Kitz fighting with other cats or molesting birds.

At his first checkup we learned he would get a few decayed teeth pulled. We already knew he was too heavy because his former person overfed him. He came with a feeder which Sharon programmed to feed him the right amount, but we still treated him with some kibble.

After some days of wary living arrangements, two humans and one cat got along. He still wanted out, but we thwarted his efforts. Sharon put out chairs so he could see from the upstairs and the downstairs. Birds didn’t drive him crazy, but other cats did. His second break out after he had mostly accepted that he would be kept indoors happened when another cat got close in the backyard. Sharon went out to calm him, but was scratched thoroughly in the process. We then beefed up downstairs security, and he only got outdoors to go to the vets, but Sharon slightly opened the front door for a compassionate fresh air view.

He used the chairs to get to his perches. Never the athlete, the highest he jumped was onto our bed, or so we thought. He would chase a laser for a while, and tried to catch a reflection off my watch. Sometime during his middle age, he started to jump up on the stovetop when we weren’t around. We could recognize his footprints on the control touchpad. This turned out badly when he turned on self-cleaning contol for the oven and locked the oven door while we were out. The plastic handle on a frying pan in the oven melted and started to smoke, setting off the fire alarm. Our fix was to tape a quarter over the start button. His zoomies – short sprints around the house – were uncommon. Sharon would treat him to kibble, which he only started to ignore shortly before he died. For a year or so Kitz and I had a ritual before his in bed feeding – I stuck out my fist and Kitz gave it a head butt. He treated us closer to equal in bed – the win went to Sharon, but he spent a lot of time cuddling me as well. I wasn’t jealous of his slight preference for cuddling Sharon at night. Sleeping next to either of us made it uncomfortable, and difficult to sleep, but we didn’t want to disturb him. On colder nights he could choose me, as other cats had, because of the heat I generated.

As he got comfortable, he occupied the whole house. His favorites may have been our bed where he frequently slept with us, his two perches, and chairs. He liked one chair that had a heating pad on it. When the furnace was running, he’d steal our heat by sitting on a vent. One of our pleasures was seeing him on the second floor window perch when we came home by car. When the garage door opened he would usually come down to see us.

Sharon and I assumed our work pattern that we had established with earlier cats. Sharon did input, which started off by being doing maintenance on his finicky feeder. Both of us allowed him limited kibble treats. Writer handled output – cleaning out his litter box. Editor took care of taking him to his vet visits except for writer hauling him in his cat box from laundry room to trunk of car.

He always liked Sharon better. He rarely sat in my lap, but was a big lap cat for Sharon. His preference for her may have been for a combination of reasons: May have liked her voice, she never picked him up or rubbed his belly as I did (I didn’t resist the pull of cat carrying – Kitz didn’t favor it, but didn’t fight once he was in my arms), or something else.

After some time, cat sometimes tolerated belly rubbing, but one could never tell, and it was known to lead to blood. Much later in life he definitely objected to eye booger removal – more blood. Stupid me thought he should appreciate the removal.

His social life didn’t involve any other animals, and only a few visitors and cat sitters. He got along OK with other people. For a while a teen neighbor did the cat sitting when we were gone, when she left for college we had a professional in a few times.

While Kitz was still getting around well, I’d play straddle. I’d walk with him, one leg on each side of him. Don’t think that he enjoyed the game. He’d rub me off by walking close to obstacles.

Before Kitz became seriously ill, we found out that he had a thyroid problem and a heart murmur. He didn’t know it, but I bonded with him over our the problems we had in common.

In 2022 he needed medical help. At first it was a prescribed food, but it was difficult to get. The next approach was a little medication inside his ear. It was difficult to apply correctly and left a residue. The final attempt which he got until he died was four pills wrapped in tasty pill pockets. Sometimes he was able to eat the wrapper, but not the pill. His medicine in whatever form couldn’t do more than slow his decline.

Sharon noticed his decline caused by his enlarged heart and irregular heartbeat more than I did. She checked his respiration rate which went up. He hid under the bed more and didn’t move around much. His perches went unused.

His feeder was finally replaced. He wasn’t eating much by that point, but he was drinking his water.

Late 2023 he started dropping turds outside his litter box. We thought giving him a second litter box might help, but it didn’t. It was strange that little bits of feces would be in his litter box, but most of the turd would be somewhere on the floor. He got towels around his second litter box because for unknown reason he began to urinate around the edge of the litter box.

We knew of a “cat house” from years ago in which cats peed freely. The house couldn’t be sold because of the smell; it had to be torn down. We were afraid we might have the same problem and are happy it didn’t come to that.

We are back to his end at the beginning of this story. The aftermath consists of memories, cleaning leftover cat mess, and donating cat accessories.

As I wrote this, I noticed his black footprints on the wall behind the computer. How he blacked his feet, and the why and how of his feet on wall are a mystery.