George The Cat

          Monday, July 8^th, 2013, was a sad day! We were forced by painful circumstances to make the decision to put our cat George to sleep. We had taken him to the vet the previous Friday because he had been losing weight and was displaying a problem in his mouth. Dr. Klotz looked at him and asked us to bring him back on Monday morning. They would then anesthetize him in order to be able to thoroughly examine his mouth. She thought that it was either an abscessed tooth or a tumor. Unfortunately, it turned out to be the latter and there was no hope for him. He couldn’t eat and he was in pain. He had already lost about 30% of his body weight and was literally skin and bones, a shadow of his former self. George had been in our home for over sixteen years and it was a difficult decision to have to make. Liz and I both cried! People talk about pets being a part of the family; George was all that and more.  

            George arrived in our home in 1997 as an abandoned kitten picked up on the street by our son Robert. Some roofers had found this little cat and were talking about killing it. (What kind of people are we turning out in this society?) Robert told them that they certainly were not going to kill the kitten, and put him in his truck and brought him home at the end of the day. That began his life in cat paradise where his every need was looked after. As a kitten, he had been separated from his mother way too early and there was some question whether he would survive. At the time we had two dogs and one of them assumed the role of George’s mother. After that, we always told people that George thought of himself as a dog, not a cat. He didn’t purr and really didn’t meow. He made a growling sound in his throat when he wanted attention. Robert named him “George” after the country music singer George Strait.

            George grew up to be the toughest cat in the neighborhood. He was very territorial and wouldn’t tolerate any other cats who happened to wander into what he considered to be his space. George vigorously chased them away. I don’t think that he lost many fights. In his youth, he was a very large cat and he could handle himself. In his early years, he would often be outside all night. He would always appear at our front door in the morning and come in to eat and then take a nap. Cats are nocturnal creatures and George was true to form.

            Cats are also strange and unique. Until you have lived with one or two, it is almost impossible to understand what that statement means. No self respecting cat would ever go to obedience school. They all have an uncanny ability to manipulate their living situations to their preferences. More often than not, it is their human owners who end up being trained to do things their way. They seem to be so calculating and intelligent. Just look deeply into the seemingly bottomless pools of a cat’s eyes! George for most of his life was aloof and standoffish. He didn’t like to be petted. And yet, he could be affectionate when it suited him. It was almost as if he was doing a favor when he allowed someone to touch him.

            In my experience, no two cats are the same. Each one has its own unique personality. It’s amazing how different they can be. Just like people. That is another pitfall to living with cats. You start thinking of them almost as people, your children. We had taken to calling George “our little boy” who some days was good and some days was bad, and we talked to him on that level.

            George was old for a cat. The average feline life expectancy is twelve years. George was over sixteen. In human terms, that would translate to eighty plus years. In his later years, George had slowed down quite a bit. However, one thing didn’t change! He always liked to be outside. He would go out and sit in our garage, often in a chair, and  watch the neighborhood. In the summer, he enjoyed lying on the warm cement absorbing the heat. At night he used to lie under one of our vehicles. I would go out and call his name. He would slowly saunter up to me; I would pick him up and carry him inside. The next morning at 5:30 am, he would be waiting at my bedroom door for me to let him outside and his daily routine would begin all over again. And I guess mine would too.

            For the last several years, George would jump up and sit on my lap when ever I would sit down on the couch to watch television. He would look up at me imploringly as if to say, “Why don’t you scratch my ears?” George loved to have his head stroked! Another one of his favorite tricks was to jump up on the dining room table and lie down next to my laptop. Liz would ask from another room what I was doing and I would respond, “George and I are working on the computer.” George knew that he was my cat and he liked to be wherever I was. Not too long ago, my daughter Bethany brought her dog Molly over to our house and I took Molly for a walk. After we had started going down the sidewalk, I looked back and there was George following along. He went for the whole walk.

            Why do we invest so much of ourselves in our relationships with our pets when we know it’s probably going to end with a painful but necessary decision like the one we just had to make? I don’t know the answer. I'm sure it has something to do with mutual needs, theirs and ours. Goodbye George! We are sure going to miss you!

 

                                                                              Richard B. Tudor