The world is a far, far darker place

Pitch was a rescue cat. We went to a black cat rescue group 11 years ago to see about picking a cat, and we got picked instead. I sat down on the floor, and this little kitten with the crank in his tail came right up to me and climbed into my lap, and that was it.

Originally, Pitch was supposed to be “my” cat, as much as a cat can belong to anyone. However, when we got him home, he instantly adopted my then four year old daughter. She could do no wrong in his eyes. He followed her around the house like a puppy. If she were in her room with the door closed, he would sit there and knock at the door until she opened it. He slept with her, kept her warm on chilly nights, and in the morning, would make muffins on her stomach, and give her kisses on the cheek until she woke up.

When I got divorced, Pitch had to stay with my ex-wife. My daughter came with me, and would see him when she went to visit her mom, but until we had a house of our own, Pitch was over there. He became an outdoor cat for better or worse. When I bought my house, we went and picked up Pitch, and turned to the task of making him an indoor cat once again. When he discovered hot spots on the heated floors, it made our job much easier.

Pitch – Pitch Cat, the old man, Buddy, Partner – I called him all sorts of names – and he would answer to Pitch – he would come when you called him – was an unusual cat. My best friend stated, “I am not a cat person, but Pitch isn’t a cat.” He made friends with anyone that came over. He knew no strangers, only friends he had never met before. Scratch his chin once, and he’d be in your lap wanting more. My wife (I got married again) stated that she wasn’t a cat person, but she loved Pitch. You could hear the old man purring from across the room.

In December, we noticed that he was losing weight. A big cat – not a fat one, according to the vet, but a big cat – Pitch weighed in at eighteen pounds. When I got him to the vet, he was down to eleven. They ran a blood panel on him, and found that his kidneys were failing. They showed me how to run a hydration line on him, and gave me some Prescription Diet, along with some antibiotics for an infection he had. He perked up overnight, was his old self in a matter of 24 hours, and we were off and running. This lasted for a couple months, but we couldn’t get him to eat steadily, and in the end, we realized we were just watching him go slowly.

This morning, after everyone had left the house but me, he collapsed. I checked on him, and in typical cat fashion, he got up and was walking around the house. At lunch when I came home, he had collapsed again, and seemed to be having trouble breathing. I called the vet’s office, and they told me to bring him in, so I did.

I pride myself on being this rough, tough, ex-military kind of guy. I was a Staff Sergeant. I’m bad ass, but I was a huge baby when it came down to it. The vet came in and examined him, and I could hardly talk through the tears. She understood though, and was so very kind. They allowed me to stay in the room with him while they gave him the tranquilizer to quiet him down. He staggered around on the table, and finally laid down next to where I was standing. I wrapped him in the blanket that belonged to the Girl (Marissa – my daughter that he adopted), and sat down with him while the vet gave him the shot that sent him home. He was sicker than we realized, and he went very quickly – in less than a minute. There was one last breath – and I’m telling myself that it was a sigh of relief – and that great heart was stilled.

No more good morning kisses or making muffins in the middle of the night. No more listening to him talk to the birds on the feeder in the backyard. No more pain or suffering for the old man, my partner, my buddy. He’s gone home to the Rainbow Bridge.

Prayers.

ASHLEY ON PATROL

Ashley, unremarkable looking grey striped tabbycat, until you see the eyes, cat of sinew and fur, resolute gaze, steady manner, scarred but never bowed, on patrol, on patrol in the house, in the yard, along the wall of the woods, keeping watch, claws and teeth ready, for the invader foolish enough to Cross the Line

Ashley on patrol, through the long hours of the night, the brief hours of summer afternoon, the snow, rain, wind, on patrol, ever watchful, never tiring, resolved, resolute, content to be on patrol

Ashley on patrol, a quick meal inside, at the kitty dish on the counter, gulping down store-bought food, tame, house cat food, for an untamed soul, quickly, still watching, from the corner of an eye, what's that motion outside? just random movement, or an Intruder? no more time for tame eating, must get back on duty

Ashley on patrol, so many encounters in the night, a few in daytime, most unseen by other eyes, several heard in the small hours, many not, but always the yard remains safe, under guard, many scars, much hair gone, not quite as steady as you were, youth cannot be kept by force of will, or sense of duty,

Ashley on patrol, always a friend to your housemates, other cats lacking your resolve, sense of purpose, a small, noisy dog who presumes too much, but tolerated, humans who care for you and who you care for, despite their puzzling lack of territoriality, who cuddle you when you're between duty sections, scratching you under the chin, your most favorite place, which causes you to stretch most luxuriously, and make your soft, rumbling purr, eyes closed in pleasure at the touch and warmth, of those you guard so well, perhaps time for a tame snack at countertop, before resuming the watch, for another long night

Ashley on patrol, who, during some long night of attentiveness, encountered one of the smallest intruders, an intruder of the body, an intruder unseen, unfelt, unsmelled, that began its own patrol of your life's blood, a patrol that doomed you

Ashley no longer on patrol, not eating, sleeping too much, too thin, coat dulled and threadbare, tired, retired sentry now, dreaming of past glories, past battles won, now too fond of the soft carpet, the cozy room, your body invaded by the unknown and unknowable, failing, so tired, time to rest, my friend, a last hug, a last purr, the prick of a needle, a last tear, sleep now

Ashley on patrol, coat shiney again, gaze steady, pace confident, no more pain, no more adversaries, Ashley on patrol, in Heaven

Bob...

Pitch Cat is gorgeous!

Looks like our Ebony and our Shadow (black cats) who have long crossed the Rainbow Bridge....along with Shag (a dog...a Westie), Boots, Tiger, Gabby and our white Mercedes, more very lovable cats!

Geez, now I have tears in my eyes remembering them and all the joy they brought. Each was unique...every one was so very special! We miss them so very much!

This is my favorite animated version of the Rainbow Bridge.
Perhaps you’ve seen it. If not...

http://www.indigo.org/rainbowbridge_ver2.html

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