Somehow, without even realizing it, I’ve had a fair number of cats pass through my life now and again. So when it comes to Christmas and New Year’s, I always inevitably think to a time of great sadness and great joy, all within the same December month. Losing a pet is a miserable experience, though gaining a pet can undo a lot of that sorrow. That’s why I’d like to share a bittersweet story for this Christmas season about three cats: One that left us and two that joined our family.
My very first pet was a cat named Alex. Alex the Cat was the manliest, most powerful cat in the entire world, a fact I can easily state from the mountains of evidence that occurred throughout his time with us. Picked from a large litter, I somehow knew that this black and white-pawed kitten was the correct choice for me, even as a little kid.
Naturally, the first thing he did upon being introduced to our home was run into the living room, leap onto the couch, and proceed to stake his very unhygienic claim. This trend of Alex just not caring would extend his entire life as he did what he wanted, when he wanted to, and really couldn’t care less what you thought otherwise. Yeah, he’ll scratch a baby in the face if she’s getting in his grill; that’s just how he rolls (my sister’s okay by the way). Yeah, he’ll box my ears and tear a few deep gashes in doing so if he doesn’t want a kiss on the forehead (my ears are mostly okay by the way). Yeah, he’ll scratch at the TV’s speakers, just because he wants to sharpen is claws for baby and kiss attacks (the TV is no longer with us, sadly).
Strangely enough, he was one of those few cats that you could never really call effeminate. He proved this on a
regular basis whenever my sister would pull out her Barbie dolls. She’s lay them all out on the floor and play with them in a circle, but as soon as we turned around a Barbie doll would be dragged off by its hair under a bed where Alex would begin licking its face (he was a gentleman at least).
Originally, Alex was an indoor/outdoor cat, but when we moved our neighbourhood had a strict indoor-only policy on cats. Thus, Alex started to become stir crazy and unfortunately very fat. So fat in fact that he made Garfield look thin. But he carried this weight well and looked more like the Godfather than Fatty Arbuckle. He seemed to get most of his exercise trying to escape in any way possible, sometimes succeeding despite our best efforts. And most amazing of all, usually after being gone for three days, all of which I was crying and worrying sick, he’d turn up like he’d never been gone, always followed by a smaller, female cat. He’d run inside, start eating, and I’d ask, “How did you get a lady friend like that? You’re fixed!” He’d just shrug and keep eating.
The reason I’d always fret so much about Alex being gone was because he slept in my room at night and had a tendency to snore loudly. After enough time it was just part of my room’s sounds, so I found comfort in this, but with him gone my room just wouldn’t feel right. Plus, that indoor-only neighbourhood policy always worried me, though not as much as the busy street nearby.
Alex never found himself on the wrong end of a car, but he was a tragic casualty of the neighbourhood’s indoor only rules. He had somehow gotten out again, which despite his best efforts was extremely rare, and during this time he had ran over to one of our neighbour’s front porch. They apparently weren’t cat people and hated the stray cats that roamed around, so they had set some antifreeze out to try and “solve” their annoying problem.
Needless to say, Alex became sick and deteriorated quickly, despite his original strength. His kidneys shut down and just a few weeks before Christmas, he had to say goodbye to go strut around with God.
I was about as depressed as anyone could be from this. Alex was my best friend, and if anyone tells you a cat can’t be a best friend, then they haven’t owned a really great cat before. I cried and cried, but after a few weeks my parents said it was time to move on and pay a visit to our local pet shelter.
And that is where we met Alan and Max. A pair of striped tabbies greeted us, one mewing furiously for us to pay attention and the other being the strong silent type. After debating for a bit, we settled on this pair and named them after Alex, hence Alan and Max.
The two would become part of our family just in time for Christmas, a time that’s perfect for kittens. It didn’t take long before we realized what had happened though. These cats had taken some of Alex’s qualities and continued his legacy. Alan would follow me around and be my buddy, while Max would just not care what anyone else thought.
It became clear to me that while we had lost Alex, we had saved two kittens that needed us, something that would be tested later with Max’s amazing cancer-defying abilities (which I’ve mentioned before), and Alan’s ongoing diabetes (a story that’s yet to be told). What if someone else had adopted these two? Would they have taken care of them when they got sick? And would Sprackle have ever found a safe place to stay? We don’t know, but that’s the magic of the What If.
Alan and Max are still with my parents to this day, carrying on what Alex started. Sometimes when I see a black cat with white paws pass by, a part of me always deep down hopes that Alex just left for a while because he felt like eloping with that gray feline friend of his, but then I have to remember that not all stories end with perfect endings. Sometimes you just get good stories to remember and hope for what’s soon to come. I just pray that your holidays are a little less bittersweet, so merry Christmas and a happy New Year!
BIO:
Chris Pranger is a writer and editor for www.SimplyCatBreeds.org where he helps provide a resource for cat lovers everywhere to learn more about their favourite felines.
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