I’m supposed to be writing something else right now.
Unfortunately, I can’t seem to get my mind on it. So, I decided that sometimes
the best way to focus on something is by focusing on something else. I had been
wanting to write a blog about Alacrity for the past couple of weeks but just
haven’t been able to get around to it.
Well, that ends now.
You see, Alacrity died over a week ago. His death was not
sudden or unexpected. He was very old and very tired.
I should probably explain to those who don’t know. Alacrity
was a cat. He was my cat for just about 18 years of my life and he was my
friend through some of the worst times and some of the best times. I’ve included
a picture of him here, taken many years ago.
To take my mind off the thing I have to write today, I
decided to list the first five memories that entered my mind when thinking
about Alacrity. They’re not the “top 5” or the “bottom 5”… they’re just five
things that stand out. I list them here in chronological order.
#1. The first day we met.
Alacrity was never really supposed to be a part of my
family. Back in 1995, I had gone to the vet with my ex-wife to adopt a new
kitten and we had found a beautiful, golden kitten who was just perfect. When
we returned to bring him home, however – something got in the way – the kitten
was gone. They told us he had mistakenly been given to another family.
So, we decided to select another.
I went to the cage where several kittens still awaited
adoption – and this tiny, white thing came running to me. He just ran to me
like he knew me right away and that was it. There was no need to decide. He
picked me!
And then, the vet found the little, golden kitten and we
returned home with two cats that day. We named one Bandoo Lelala, after a
character in a book I had written. And we named the other Alacrity Fitzhugh,
after a character in a book I’d read.
#2 The Claw
Some years later, after my marriage had gone to shit and I
was on my own, Alacrity had an appointment with the vet. A checkup.
Alacrity had never been the kind of cat who liked being
picked up. It just wasn’t his thing. But I had to pick him up to put him in the
cat carrier.
So, I picked him up with one hand, held the carrier in the
other – and as I moved to drop him in, Alacrity somehow twisted around and dug
a single claw deep into my neck. It was impaled in there!
I dropped the cat carrier and pulled on his paw, but the
claw was not coming out!
I had to extricate it almost like a fish hook, very
delicately, as Alacrity continued to struggle…
Let’s just say… it wasn’t pretty.
#3. Doing the crawl.
Sometime shortly after that, I got to see Alacrity swim for
the first time… on dry land.
My friend, Cindy, had come over to smoke some pot one night.
We were tremendous smokers. We’d fill up the apartment with thick, white smoke.
I didn’t realize cats could get high from second-hand smoke.
Sure enough, however, we watched as my cats got a contact high like I’d never
seen. They wobbled and played like they were in a field of catnip!
Then, out of nowhere, Alacrity entered my peripheral vision
and I turned to see him doing the backstroke on my carpet. He crossed the room
on his back almost like he was swimming.
When he got to me, I reached down and found him purring like
crazy. He was having a great time.
#4. IV.
As unintentionally ironic as the title might be, the next
big event was when we had to give Alacrity IV medication.
This happened many years later, long after Vicky and I were
married. Alacrity had suffered from a very bad kidney infection and the doctor
had given us some IV medication to give to Alacrity at home. We had to give it
to him for about a week, if memory serves, and Vicky and I had to decide who
would administer the IV and who would hold Alacrity.
Now, this might sound like a no-brainer. Holding the cat
would sound like an easy job, right? But Alacrity had shown me just how adept
he was with his claws and he was by no means a senior citizen at that time. As
much as I did not want to administer the medicine, I also didn’t want Vicky’s
body left bloody by two fistfuls of claws.
So, I chose to hold Alacrity – and was pleasantly surprised
to find him absolutely docile. He even purred.
Mind you, as Alacrity got older, the two of us became… well,
what can I say? We’d known each other for over a decade by then and I had
become comfortable in our relationship. I know I took him for granted.
So, when I held him and pet him, I guess so much time had
passed that he was just happy for the attention, despite the needle in his butt
(or wherever Vicky had put it).
#5. Saying goodbye.
Alacrity was about 18 years old when we had him put to
sleep.
He was old and tired. In the final month, he stopped moving
a whole lot. Most of the time, he slept. Then, in the final week, he stopped
just about everything else. He stopped using the litter box. He stopped going
outside. He stopped eating and drinking.
We knew he was done and we didn’t want his final days to be
filled with pain.
Vicky is very good at dealing with sick and dying animals,
though she’s warned me that when our dog, Suki, dies she will be completely
useless. And she’s been terrific with other pets. But Alacrity and I had known
each other for so long, I knew this was my job.
So, we went to the vet and explained what was going on and I
told her we wanted him put to sleep. Mind you, they weren’t recommending any
drastic, life-saving measures. Clearly, the time had come.
Vicky and I sat with Alacrity for a moment before the vet
came into the private room with the injection but I didn’t want to drag it out.
Whatever discomfort Alacrity was experiencing needed to end quickly.
He died right away, almost as if he had been waiting for
just that moment.
When he was gone, I thought about everything we had been
through. All of the times we had cuddled late at night. All of the times he had
howled and kept me from sleeping late at night. All of the treats he’d eaten
from my hand. All of the puke I’d cleaned up.
For better and worse, he was okay. A pain in the ass? Yes.
Everybody’s friend? Yes.
He was okay. And I was glad to have known him.
