The day before I moved to Boulder in the spring of 2007, with U-Haul loaded and ready to end the Austin chapter of my mid-20s, I handed in my apartment key and drove to my sister's apartment a few miles away. In the grass next to my parking spot was a box with cat supplies, and next to it a kitten in a crate. After a few hours and no one returning to claim him, we took him inside. Hmmm.... to drop him at the Humane Society in the morning or bring him with? He had already been rejected once, but was playful, mild mannered, and litter box trained. It seemed fate had decided we should be companions, so he joined me on my new adventure. His colors reminded me of Mt. Rainier so I named him Tacoma.
#kittenlyfe
Tacoma's personality was far larger than he was right from the start. He loved fresh laundry and cardboard, as most cats do, but was otherwise a fairly bold and atypical cat. He was unafraid of dogs 5x his size. He travelled well, content in a car or plane. He climbed absolutely everything to the point where I joked his middle name would be Viesturs, and played incessantly. I found several of his baby teeth by virtue of impaling my heels on them after they had fallen out... he was a handful, but a joy.
His favorite part of our first home was the post-work daily walks; no matter how I tried, he would escape my front door at least once a day. He chased squirrels, would play with dogs, try to climb trees after birds, and generally explore regardless of weather until as many as 45 minutes had passed. Eventually I stopped trying to keep him indoors and grew to look forward to our daily excursions. Despite requiring effort and extra planning, he quickly became a part of my daily routine and a welcome companion.
His favorite part of our first home was the post-work daily walks; no matter how I tried, he would escape my front door at least once a day. He chased squirrels, would play with dogs, try to climb trees after birds, and generally explore regardless of weather until as many as 45 minutes had passed. Eventually I stopped trying to keep him indoors and grew to look forward to our daily excursions. Despite requiring effort and extra planning, he quickly became a part of my daily routine and a welcome companion.
#petlyfe
After our first 2 years in Boulder I moved from garden level apartment to a top floor condo, so our walks ended. His favorite activity became sunbathing on the balcony. I've never seen anything take such pleasure in lying in the sun. When inside he was a ridiculous lap cat, constantly wanting to just hang out, it seemed. Once in the middle of dinner he hopped unexpectedly into my lap only to land in a bowl of Thai red curry. I'm pretty sure that was the only proper bath I ever gave him. It took a while for his coat to return to normal, and I'm sure he tasted Thai chilies in his catfood for several days after bathing himself... He would also burrow as I slept so I would wake up with him draped across me - impossibly under the sheets even, and liked to play hide-and-seek more than any cat I've ever seen. Half the time I didn't even know we were playing until a meow indicating, "I'm hiding... come find me" would grow louder and louder until I responded.
Like most cats, I believe, Tacoma was a bit of a nightmare to others. Many joked that only I could handle such a demon. He demanded you give him time to warm up to you, and was not friendly to those not patient with him. He was not kind even to others who cared for and fed him; pet sitters, friends, my family. And yet with me, he was always gentle and warm. I'll never be able to explain it, other than he was grateful for my care at his early age and his appreciation for me as a housemate.
In addition to behaving unusually catlike and fearless as a kitten, he was also unusually large. I'm not a cat expert, but once full grown he was also huge compared to most cats I've known, weighing over 16 lbs but not appearing overweight. Without exposure to the outside other than the balcony, he stayed quite healthy and at that same weight for many years.
Last April during a bout with pancreatitis I fed him via syringe into a tube from nose to stomach for several days and wondered if he survived that whether he'd live another 8 years. He lasted just another 8 months.
Like most cats, I believe, Tacoma was a bit of a nightmare to others. Many joked that only I could handle such a demon. He demanded you give him time to warm up to you, and was not friendly to those not patient with him. He was not kind even to others who cared for and fed him; pet sitters, friends, my family. And yet with me, he was always gentle and warm. I'll never be able to explain it, other than he was grateful for my care at his early age and his appreciation for me as a housemate.
In addition to behaving unusually catlike and fearless as a kitten, he was also unusually large. I'm not a cat expert, but once full grown he was also huge compared to most cats I've known, weighing over 16 lbs but not appearing overweight. Without exposure to the outside other than the balcony, he stayed quite healthy and at that same weight for many years.
Last April during a bout with pancreatitis I fed him via syringe into a tube from nose to stomach for several days and wondered if he survived that whether he'd live another 8 years. He lasted just another 8 months.
#afterlyfe
I can't say that I would consider myself a cat person, but it is shocking what one gets accustomed to. It might be a long while before I'm used to a new morning routine without pet food and litter boxes; a new travel routine that doesn't include a pet sitter or pet logistics of any kind; a shopping routine without put supplies; not being woken by at 3am by the distinct "oh no I'm about to barf" meow or with a leg asleep due to a 15 pound animal draped across it. 12 years with a housemate of any kind will do that to a person.
