Neuer Gedankengang!

The coming and going of Paka the Cat

I haven't owned a cat since my 34-year old son was about 8 or 10, except for cats that hung out in the barn at our house in the country and kept the mice away. Because I was seldom diligent enough to keep the box clean, prompting the inevitable response from the cats, who won't go to a smelly box, I had sworn off indoor cats. Until this winter, when I became foster mother to an 11 year old tabby.


Paka came to live with me about January 20, when his owner left for an extended stay in Barcelona. He was an indoor cat, and I quickly learned that I had to take responsibility for his needs. If he was hungry, he told me so, sometimes at 5:30 in the morning! If his box wasn't clean, he used whatever was handy, mostly piles of clothes that were waiting for the laundry. So I adjusted, or should I say, Paka trained me.


After living alone for over two years, it was nice to have another body in the house. Somehow it seemed less strange to talk to the cat than it would have to talk out loud to myself. I quickly saw that just verbalizing everyday things, like "Guess I really should wash those dishes," or "Wonder if there's a good movie to watch," gave me a lighter spirit and made me feel less lonely.


One sign of how much I enjoyed having him here was the number of pictures I took. You can see some of them on my picasa page (http://picasaweb.google.com/Avillapictures), but that's only part of them. I got used to seeing him walk out into the hall when I came in the door, and I knew that putting out food for him had to be high on the list of things I did when I got home.


There were rules, and he was pretty good at following them, when reminded, that is. He wasn't allowed on the pillow area of my bed, and when I said, no, he generally backed away. But he would often walk down around my feet and up the bed behind my back, thinking he could sneak in that way. In the last month or so, he had started doing that early in the mornings; he would walk over the pillow above my head and then peek around my folded arm and get right in my face to see if I was awake. And if I was, he would nudge my wrist to persuade me to bring my hand from under the pillow to pet him.


Of course he wanted to be on my desk or in my lap when I was working at the computer, which didn't really work. If I scooted back enough to make room for him, I couldn't see the screen. I had tried a few times at first to get him to go after the mouse because I thought it would be a funny picture, but he didn't seem interested. A few weeks ago, however, he had taken to sitting down on my desk just above the tray where my laptop and mouse are, and batting at my hand and the mouse. Lots of things popped up on the screen in response to his "clicking."


Paka is gone now. Sadly, it isn't because his person came back from her travels. Last week on Tuesday he stopped eating, and on Wednesday he paid no attention to the can of food I opened for him, or to the bowl of water. After a bit, all he was doing was laying down and apparently sleeping. Every once in a while he would get up and move across the room, and then lay down again. I thought of my mother-in-law in her last days, what the doctors described as "failure to thrive." She simply lost interest in everything that had to do with living, and soon slipped away.


On Thursday, I sent a note to his owner, knowing that she seldom reads email. I wasn't in a position to pay for the vet myself, but I would have if I thought she would want me to; I simply didn't know. I sent a copy of the message to her brother, and thankfully he and his mother made the decision for me.


Friday morning I took Paka to their vet. I said, "If he recovers, call me, and I'll come back and get him." But the young man answered, "I don't think he will." I learned from Ryan later in the day that Paka had a severe case of diabetes, and that his systems had started to shut down. Ryan and his mother made the decision to have him put down, and Ryan planned to take him to their house so they could bury him.


I always knew he would be here temporarily, and in any case, I didn't consider myself a cat person. I wasn't sure I wanted a cat on a long term basis. But I miss him. It's a lot different to have him leave in this way than to have Lynn simply come back and get him and take him with her when she moves across the country in the fall. All of the paraphernalia is still here, and I am reluctant to get rid of it, even the large cardboard box I used in the bathroom to keep the litter box out of sight.

I think about what I have learned from this. I learned that a pet can be fun, and can be good company and relieve loneliness. I learned that I am perhaps more of a cat person than I used to be, more inclined to be gentle, even when he got in the way of my work or wanted to sit right in the middle of the newspaper I was trying to read.


But I also learned that having a pet is a responsibility, financially and emotionally. Barn cats will take care of themselves, but house pets need consistent attention and care, including medical care. Right now that's a commitment I'm not sure I can make.


I am sad that Paka is gone, and I know it will take me a while before I stop looking behind my desk chair to be sure his tail isn't in the way before I roll back. Mostly, I am grateful that Paka was here for the time he was.

posted by Shirley Schuette @ 6:08 PM