Buddy

One of my cats died late Saturday night, Buddy the big fat guy who was a big asshole sometimes but had charm up the yingyang.  

Maybe four months ago he appeared to be on death's doorstep when I took him to the vet's, but because of covid they wouldn't let me go in with him, though later they let me sit in an empty room, and that's when they told me they were giving him oxygen, and I thought maybe that had something to do with me not being with him and I did not want him to die alone in that strange place.  And they kind of shrugged but gave him a shot and gave him back to me, and I was standing on a street corner trying to hail a cab and he was sitting in his carrier on the sidewalk on that cold windy day where it took close to half an hour to catch a cab, and who can tell but looking back at him and his dark eyes it looked like as bad as it was sitting in that carrier by the busy street, he knew that I was with him, and he trusted me to take care of him.

When I got him home he didn't seem to be any better, moped around in the front room hardly eating or drinking or anything, but a couple days later when I woke up in the morning and made a little ruckus getting up he came running in like a newborn kitty.

Of course I have been a cat man all of my life, though I don't know about the dawgs, and they just have all this charm.  I remember when I first got him and his sister Sweetie, and that night he came cuddling into bed with me, and I was like Buddy, don't you know we are both guys.  Afterwards I would tell people that I was straight as an arrow but I was bi curious for Buddy and I didn't care who knew it.

Cats don't do all that much.  They would never run for help if they saw you fall down a well.  They just lounge around and sleep and eat and piss and shit, and it is up to you to provide the food and clean the litter box, and they never show any gratitude or any sign that they are sorry when they make they make a mess.

But they frolic sometimes and they do dumb stuff that makes you laugh, and maybe they don't love you like humans love each other but they are always glad to have you around.  They trust you to take care of them, like Buddy did that wintry day by the curb when I was trying to hail a cab.

After my last cat died I wanted to have two cats and rather than get them separately and worry about them getting along, I decided to pick a pair at the anti cruelty.  My previous cat, Annie, had been a classic tabby, so my rule was one of the cats had to be a classic tabby and the other could be whatever.  And there was my classic tabby right there in that cage in the corner, but the other cat was this big fat lump, with a blotchy coat of mostly white.  It was a disappointment, but I knew if I wanted her I had to take him.

They put them into cardboard carriers and I stood on the corner hailing a cab hoping they would not be able to break out.  But they were good kitties and didn't even try.  When I set the carriers down in the front room and opened them up, they each took their own tours and decided this would do just fine and that the butler seemed like a nice enough chap.

That was eleven years ago.  They were very good years.  Every morning I would wake up and if my kitties weren't in bed with me I would call out their names and within ten seconds I would see them round the corner and come running in with their tails standing up, which I have heard is the sign of a happy cat.  Sweetie would get a tussle and Buddy would get a belly rub, and then straight to the kitchen where their food and waterbowls would be filled.  I soon discovered that Buddy liked yogurt and every morning I would spoon a bit onto that little foil top they have and give it to him and it would make his sun rise in the morning.  He only liked one kind of yogurt and when the Jewel stopped stocking it I would walk four or five extra blocks to Whole Foods to get it.  I had just bought sixteen of them Saturday afternoon and carried them back thinking of him.

He had had his last yogurt Saturday morning.  He had not been well,  Instead of him coming right to the kitchen like he did every morning he stayed in the bed, and I had to carry it out to him and tempt him to waddle into the kitchen to eat it.

He was moping most of the day.  Well he had been doing that a lot these last few days and then he would snap out of it a little and I was hoping for that.  That evening he was lying on the tiles of the kitchen floor and I picked him up and carried him to the futon which I thought must be more comfortable.  What looks more comfortable than a cat stretched out on a bed?  I was watching my Saturday night movies and everytime I went to the bathroom I would walk into the bedroom and pet him and rub his belly.  Normally this would bring on a purr, he purred like a diesel engine, but I only got one short purr out of him.

When I went to bed he was by my side and moving a little.  I normally get up a half dozen times a night to pee and at one point I noticed that his breathing was ragged, and the next time I woke he was still.  I still slept with him, and I left him lying there in state as it were until the afternoon when I put him into a pillowcase and that into a large tote back.

I'm pretty sure the vet will take him and send him off to be cremated, I want the ashes, and then I can pick him up there and put them on the shelf next to my previous cat, Annie, who was the tabby who was the reason I took him home from the Anti Cruelty.  They won't be open until nine this morning, and I'll haul him over there.

My beloved Buddy, my beer-drinking buddy who didn't drink beer, who was my pal these eleven years and always looked up to me with his dark eyes to take care of him, and now he is just a stiff thing in a bag.

Well so it goes, so it goes.  He wasn't that good a cat because he sometimes thought outside the box.  He did that sometimes when he was younger and he found some nook or some piece of plastic bag which was just too tempting.  The last year he had largely just stopped even thinking it about it.  I have tried this and that, a lower box, absorbent pads, newspapers, to only half-assed use, and the place, my beautiful condo overlooking where the river runs into the lake has stunk pretty bad at times.  Last week I went out and got a portable rug shampooer at a cost of eighty bucks but I haven't yet got around to using it.

And I have sometimes thought, well he likely won't be around that much longer. so I just sort of put up with it, because, you know, I loved the guy.  So there it is.

His sister, the tabby, is the most catlike of the two, Buddy was more doglike, which is more like a human being.  But the two of them were the best of pals.  When I first got them they would have these mock fights and even though Buddy was way stronger I swear sometimes he let her win, just to be a good guy I assumed.

And they always cuddled a lot, especially lying in my lap, licking each other's faces, that was the sweetest thing.  Often though they would get into some little spat, I always assumed Buddy had done something to start it.  They were fixed of course, but sometimes Buddy would mount her, and she would go along with it until it passed some point and she would snarl at him and run away and he would chase her, but she was faster, and sometimes I would put him into the bedroom and close the door on him and he would do his time, about half an hour, and he would rejoin society as a good citizen again.

But lately they have not been cuddling as much.  He was a little smelly and I think she just didn't like him as much.  They kind of went there separate ways.  She didn't show much curiosity when he was lying in state and she was lying just a couple of feet from him, and now I don't know what she feels.

So there it is, so it goes.  I will call the vets in about half an hour, and then I will carry him down to LaSalle and Chicago.  I just tested it and it is pretty heavy, but of course not really, he is my brother.

My buddy.