So you all read about my cats. Many moons ago me and my late partner adopted a cat from a local shelter. When I blogged about him I always referred to him as #1 son. He was a very good boy for the most part. He discovered momma for us and would sulk when she wasn’t around. When she was around he would get all pissed off. He also got into it with Taz and pretty much everyone else in the family. Although he never met Blu. He had FELIV which is Feline AIDS. He was a carrier but he had no symptoms. I remember when we got the news, we were both devastated because it sounded like a death sentence. It was anything but that. It just meant that he needed superior medical care. By that I mean anything that went wrong with him, he had to go to the vet. That is what we were told. We followed that advice for many years but soon relaxed a bit and realized that somethings in life resolve on their own. He was prone to frequent eye infections. He kept with the color scheme of the house in that he was black and white. Long fur, lots of whiskers and just sweet disposition for the most part.
He was hands down the most spoiled cat in our neighborhood and perhaps in our county. The days of having one cat were nice in that we could go away for a weekend trip and not worry. That is until he got older and then started to have thyroid problems. He also got jealous of momma and her kids, he was not happy with me for bringing her into the house. He actually got so pissed off at both me and my late partner that he ran away. I went to find him and we had a huge fight. No questions about it he won the battle, but I won the war. I had to be treated at a local hospital and had to visit my doctor the next day, I got a nasty hand infection out of it. He also severed the nerve to the first digit of my right hand. It was constant tingleing and I couldn’t feel anything for a few months. Finally the nerve grew back and the tingle went away as I was on the cusp of seeing a hand surgeon. That whole fight thing was the worst thing that happened, until the day we had to part ways. That for sure what the absolute worst.
The best most recent memory is when I took Gator up to see him, she was still very much a new born. He smelled her and then promptly hissed at her. It was a couple months later when the kids were starting to grow that we allowed them upstairs and he and Gator were looking out the window. He leaned over to her and let out a huge hiss. Without hesitation she looked right back at him and hissed even louder. That scared him half to death and he went running. We laughed until we cried. It was just one of those funny moments where there was no camera rolling to capture it.
I write about him because it popped up on my calendar that today would be his birthday. This was the day that we brought him home from the shelter. My late partner was hell bent on getting him. He had just lost his cat to liver cancer and it was like 3 weeks, he was looking at the paper at work. I got a message on my pager or maybe it was a voice mail but he said were going to get this cat. I remember talking to him at lunch time. He had already called the shelter and reserved him. When I got home I saw the news article that was written and his name was Spanky. I don’t want a cat named Spanky it just didn’t sound right. Turns out it was a misprint and his name is and was Sparky. Sounds like an electrical story but he himself was just a ball of energy, so much that I guess that is how he got his name. He wasn’t a happy cat when we picked him up but once he got home and started looking around, you could just see the look on his face. He thought he won the lottery and in many ways he did. He explored every nook and cranny of the house, he took turns sleeping with each of us. If we were cuddling he would join in. It was the good old days and just the three of us.
Those sure were some good times and I enjoyed each and every day I had with him. My late partner even talked him into walking. So then I had a chore to do when I came home in the spring and summer from working a long hard day, Sparky and I would go for a walk. This was fun for both of us, but as he got older he got senile and started thinking he saw things and his mood would shift on a dime. He would want to rip me to shreds, but then would smell my finger and sometimes calm down and other times it would have no effect on him.
I know he lived a long life but it wasn’t long enough for me. It wasn’t too terribly long after he was gone that we got news about Bear and that they (the vet) saw spots on an x-ray for him. They encouraged us to put him down and we didn’t. Turns out Bear didn’t and doesn’t have cancer. That made us think they were wrong about Sparky and that we made a horrible choice to end his life when he was perfectly fine. That is the road not traveled and I can’t go down that path even if I wanted to.
If you thought making the decision to end his life was difficult, you have no idea how hard it was for me to make his grave. It just ripped me up. His remains are resting comfortably in a sunny spot in the front hard of our home. He always liked the sun and I picked the perfect spot for him. So when the sun is out and shining bright I often think of him. Happy Birthday to my #1 son, the guy who started it all. Daddy misses you very much!