Eighteen years ago, in the middle of a bitterly cold winter, we discovered that a black cat had taken up residence on the seat of the lawn mower in our unheated garage. When I discovered him, I turned to Dear Husband and said, “He’s going to freeze. We have to let him in the house.” Dear Husband has never been a lover of cats, and his solution to the problem was to put a small space heater in the garage.
The winter worsened that weekend, and to keep the pipes in the loft bathroom from freezing, Dear Husband needed to use the space heater that was keeping the cat company. I looked at DH, and said, “He’ll freeze.”
Dear Husband, knowing what his life would be like if the cat died in the garage, opened the door to the basement, and accepted the changes that were to come in his life. He did, however, declare that our bedroom would be a “pet-free” zone.
My step-daughter named the cat “Edward Scissorhands,” after a recently released Johnny Depp movie, in honor of the set of lethal claws the cat wielded whenever he felt threatened. His name was temporarily changed to “Edwina Scissorhands,” when the vet incorrectly determined his sex, but we changed vets and from then on we simply called the cat “Ed.”
Ed manipulated everyone. We could not persuade him to be an indoor cat. He quickly learned how to ring Elegante Mother’s chimes, climbing onto her stereo system and playing golf with her pewter miniatures when she didn’t respond to his request to go out.
Somehow, Ed trained our dog, Defer, to bark when it was time for us to open the door and let Ed back into the house. In return, Ed would take his time walking into the foyer so that Defer could sniff him to see where Ed had been. They had an amazing relationship, and Ed was always top cat (or dog, as the case may be).
When Ed was fifteen years old our vet told us that Ed was suffering from a thyroid problem. The vet is one of those very pragmatic people and she rarely recommends heroic efforts where they are not a good choice. I trust her judgment, so when she told me that Ed’s condition could be cured with radiation, we gave it a great deal of thought. It was expensive. It meant that he would have to be away from us for a week. We would have to collect his litter and waste for six months because it couldn’t go directly into the landfill without setting off radiation alarms! I finally decided that we’d do it. I felt that if we would have one more year with Ed, it was worth it.
The treatment was successful. Ed had a lot to say about the spa we sent him to, but he came back in good health, ready to take up his position as the head of the house. Shortly after that, we began to notice that his black fur was shot through with silver, and the vet commented each time she saw him over the increasing gray.
Two years ago, I knew there was something wrong, so after Christmas, I took Ed to see the vet and she ran a series of tests. Ed was developing kidney disease. I thought he’d be gone in a couple of months. He chose not to go out, and became the indoor cat we’d hoped for. All through winter he preferred to be where it was warm. Occasionally he would go to the door and demand to be let out, but when the blast of frigid air hit him, he’d shake his right front paw and back away. When it finally warmed up, his visits outside were shorter. He was becoming a cat who loved his luxuries, and his nap sites followed the sun as it moved from the east to the west side of the house throughout the day.
Ed’s personality never changed. He still expected to be the family member in charge, but he became more social these past two years. He would join us as we gathered for dinner, wanting to check out what was on our plates. Then, he’d sit with me as I worked at the computer, and at 8:00, we’d adjourn to the rocker and he would sit above me, or on my lap, or nose to nose with me.
In the morning, when I came out of the bedroom, Ed would be waiting on the table in the foyer, ready for me to scoop him up and carry him to the kitchen where I’d give him the first can of cat food for the day. He had a schedule, and he expected me to keep to it.
Tuesday, it was unusually warm. Our Spring has arrived about two weeks early. Ed wanted to go out, so about four o’clock in the afternoon, I opened the door for him, thinking he would be back in time for dinner. I called him, and looked for him for the next twenty four hours, but Ed ghosted out of our lives in the same way he came into them…..on his own terms.
He was a great cat, and I really miss him.