Once Upon a Time . . .

In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.
— Terry Pratchett

I had been told that the training procedure with cats was difficult. It’s not. Mine had me trained in two days.
— Bill Dana

As anyone who has ever been around a cat for any length of time well knows, cats have enormous patience with the limitations of the humankind.
— Cleveland Amory

Heaven will never be Paradise unless my cats are there waiting for me.
— Unknown

Once upon a time I had five cats.

They were, from left to right, Taz, Romi, Julius, Dante, and Panda. It started with Taz. The summer of 2000, the daughter talked me into letting her have a kitten of her own. We already had one cat, which started out being hers, but he was a senior and not in great health. And he was mellow enough that we figured he could handle a kitten.

And so we got Taz, AKA General Razmataz Meowington the Third, AKA the Tazmanian Devil. He was a fearless kitten, standing his ground against our border collie, climbing the door frame of the kitchen door, and generally leaving a trail of destruction behind him.

Just after the daughter went off to university, leaving Taz at home where he’d be happier, our senior cat passed away. The daughter browbeated, urged, suggested we get another cat to keep Taz company. Enter Panda (AKA Pandora, AKA Pandaloons)

Like her namesake, Panda was the most curious kitten I’ve ever encountered.

While Taz was instantly a smitten kitten, Panda was somewhat indifferent. But by-and-by (before we could get her spayed) they started a family.

From left to right, they are Romi, Julius, and Dante. Originally it was supposed to be Romulus and Remus, but Remus did not like his name and became Dante.

Years passed, the kittens grew into cats. And as any pet owner will tell you, the hardest part about owning pets us when you have to say goodbye to them.

Panda was the first. She had kidney disease and though she fought the good fight, she let us know when it was time to let her go.

Next to go was Julius. He developed tumors in his abdomen that turned out to be cancer.

Romi, who had been Panda’s favorite, was next (a few years later) with respiratory issues.

Taz was starting to get a little senile, and pretty much camped out in what was then my office. I started to feed him in there, and set him up with a kitty litter pan. He preferred to sleep on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, so to make him more comfortable I folded up a blanket for his bed. His passing was the quietest – I went in to feed him one morning and he was gone.

And finally, there was Dante. I sometimes wondered if we should get another cat so he wouldn’t be so lonely, but he was never the most sociable of the cats. In fact, despite the fact he’d been born in this house and raised with his parents and siblings, he seemed like a feral cat. He had pancreatitis and IBS, and then he developed an abscess on his jaw that made it painful for him to eat.

He was 19 years old, and had several other health issues. It was time to let him go, and so I did this past Tuesday. It was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. He was the last of my pack of kitties. In all my life, I’ve only spent one year without the companionship of a cat. It's a strange feeling.

When the time is right for us to get another cat, we’ll probably get a pair of kittens. I know there are many older cats who need a good home, but having spent the last several years dealing with senior cats, I think it’s time for kittens again.

I miss my fur babies, but I firmly believe they’re all together again, across the rainbow bridge.