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| Me and Ralph a few weeks after nursing him back to health |
It took me awhile to compose my thoughts tonight, what with the neighbors staging a party and impromptu rock n roll sing along, but the fleeting strains of Queen's "Fat Bottomed Girls" floating through my open windows reminded me of how I ended up with Ralph in the first place.
It was around 1997, I was four years into being a newly married woman and my friends Chris, Craig and Bobby were out on tour with their rock n roll band in a converted yellow hound school bus. I was thrilled to be "support crew" and was watching their house over on Loren St. in Springfield, MO making sure their animals were fed and the house wasn't taken over by college students looking for a convenient place to party.
The hubby and I had been out to dinner or a show and we had stopped by to check on the house. I was locking up after the nightly feed when I heard a tiny, almost imperceptible cry.
There had been a feral mama cat roaming around the neighborhood and I knew she had been quiet pregnant the last time I had seen her barely making her escape from the large Great Dane mix dogs that lived next door to my friends. They weren't mean dogs , but they were big and they did what most normal dogs did , chased cats. Anyway I stopped and the hubby ran smack into the back of me (yes i have a bad habit of stopping in the most in opportune places, but that is a subject for another installment) after muttering a curse word. I explained that I thought I heard something cry. He told me I was not hearing anything but the house squeaking. Then I heard it again. I knew that time it was a cat. I went for the spare flashlight we kept in the trunk of the car. He sighed and told me to "make it quick".
Out front of this house were these massive evergreen bushes. Old gnarled thorny things that had undoubtedly been planted at the time the house was built. Most likely in the late 40's or early 50's. They were low to the ground and it was almost impossible to get into them. I wriggled in as much as I could and shined the light into the darkness and I saw a teeny glimmer of glowing kitty eyes and I heard the tiny cry again.
This urged me forward, the cry was one of fear and pain, I got stuck on a branch and felt my skin ripping and the burn of evergreen sap. I dropped the light and put my hand out and touched fir. I pulled and got the light back on and found my self face to face with the dead mama cat. I heaved and shone the light to see that there were two or three other lifeless tiny bodies behind her. Something had gotten a hold of the little family. Shaking off the wave of nausea, I plunged forward again, hands reaching and this time was rewarded with a barely wiggling, warm, crying, sticky, ball of fir.
After retreating from the bush I cradled it in my hands, terribly tiny it fit comfortably in my hand, I cradled it to my chest. The hubby takng the light from me shone it down into my hands and said "What the hell is that?" After examining it under the dim light I said "Well it appears to be a cat, covered in motor oil." He screwed up his face "You know I'm allergic to cats. What are you going to do with it?" I made a split second decision. I couldn't leave it there it would die and it was obviously too small to take to a shelter poor bugger wasn't even fully weaned yet. "Well, I'll nurse it up to a size the shelter will take it and they can find it a home." He sighed at me again "Alright " he reluctantly agreed "It stays in the garage."
So I held it all the way home. Warm now it had grown quiet and was breathing very shallowly. I wondered if it had been stressed too much and if it would even make it. Once home I found my animal carrier and put it in there while I got out my animal first aid kit.
I filled the kitchen sink up with warm water and plunked the animal in gently washing it with shampoo. Two changes of water and I discovered that my cat was orange striped. I also discovered fleas, ear mites and a horribly mangled backside with some puncture wounds. It was a boy.
Not wanting to stress the little guy out too much more I bandaged his backside up and combed as many fleas out of his fir as I could. I then snugged him into the carrier and ran off to the store to get some kitten milk re-placer.
That first night he ate so much I could see his little belly swell up and he snuggled into my lap and fell asleep, purring. From that moment on that cat never stopped purring. I really was trying not to fall in love with him, but it was hard.
So this went on for a few weeks until I felt like he was big enough to be weaned off the milk and onto solid food. That is the picture above. Hubby snapped it after I remarked that he wasn't fitting so well into one hand anymore.
I was ready to take him to the shelter. I was upset as the little guy had quiet a personality. He was talkative and would follow me around like a small dog. I came home from work one day to find him and the Hubby stretched out on their backs in the recliner sleeping and snoring away.
I poked my Hubby , "Hey I thought you said he had to stay in the garage." " Well he said thoughtfully " I couldn't stand him crying and so I just brought him in for a moment and well we kinda fell asleep. Guess I'm not as allergic as I thought I was." He paused. " I guess you can keep him if you want to." I was overjoyed. I picked up my kitty and looked at him. "What to name you?" I thought. He loved to roll in motor oil, he chewed on electric cords, he was proving to be an excellent spider killer. Then almost from the mystic nether a name just popped into my head " Ralph" . I looked at him " Well how about Ralph." He perked up and twitched his tail. "Ralph it is then."
He always came when we called him. I used to tell people that I didn't pick his name, he just told me what his name was.
As he got older he got more and more dog like. I suppose that was because he was the only cat in a houseful of dogs. Snoopy my male beagle and Tramp my retriever chow mix and Ellie my friend Chris' boxer pup. He'd throw a paw up for me to shake , he'd sit , he'd sit up, stand on my shoulders.
He'd do this chattering noise at the birds out back and when the other dogs would do something that they weren't supposed to he'd come meow at me and head to the back door urging me to follow him.
He would sit between my feet and growl at any strange person he didn't like. Of course being as he was quiet the lover boy those were few and far between. If you would pet him he was your friend for life.
I also called him the "shed monster" because it seemed no matter how much brushing I did he could always manage to coat anything that he touched with hair.
So many little strange habits he had .. he liked it when I would pick him up and cradle him like a baby. He would wrap his paws around my wrist to bring my hand down to tickle his cheeks. He also liked it when I would pat him on the bottom like you would burp a kid. He'd purr the whole time. He even purred at the vet , well as long as I was in the room, they had to have me leave to hear his heart and breathing because he would not stop purring around me.
He drooled. I always knew he was super happy when the waterworks would come on. He would drool and knead my side with his paws. (leading to me keeping them trimmed short ) If I didn't stop him he would soak a shirt.
As he got older he decided he didn't like children. He knew he'd get a scolding for for acting out so he would tolerate a couple of pets before he would tuck his tail , grumble a bit and insist that I put him in a place where he could rest unmolested.
When I got divorced I had to leave him behind with my ex for the year I was in my apartment. I cried, but I always planned on it being a short separation. I got lucky in finding my house when I did because my ex decided he was tired of keeping cats and called me to come get them else he was turning them outdoors. My dad and I came to pick him up and when I introduced him to his new "sister" B. C. the meeting went really well. They settled in together and we had a happy six years in this house.
He was my companion, my guardian, he sat with me through the tears at losing my grandfather, working through the aftermath of losing my friend Keith, the joy of making new friends and a new life . He seemed to know when to come sit beside me or on me.
So when I discovered the tumor on his neck, it was a shock. I had always pictured him ending his life peacefully drifting off to sleep not waking up like my other pets. I scheduled him in with the vet to confirm what I feared. I had spent this last week keeping him comfortable and he was happy eating and playing and cuddling with me. Thursday morning he was not acting right and I had decided that I was going to make an appointment with the vet for Saturday, that the month she gave him wasn't going to happen.
When I picked him up to cuddle him he felt light, like he was pulling into himself, his limbs were feeling heavy. I took him outside in the grass and we sat feeling the first rays of the sun. The tumor had taken his voice but by God my little "purr monster" was still trying to purr.
I felt silly, but I told him that when I got home from work I would take him back out into the yard so he could lay in the grass again. In my heart though I was feeling that he was getting ready to go. I wasn't sure he would make it until I got home.
I put him in his favorite cat bed out in the garage close to the litter box and the food. He wasn't wanting to walk very far without effort so I let him pick his spot.
Ralph was a good cat, and we had a great time together. There certainly won't be another like him.
