Friday, August 20, 2021
Hobbs
It's funny how so many things are impacted by one moment in time. Some things that one would feel are totally unrelated are in fact just one or two ripples away from that defining rock hitting the water that started the ripples in the first place. Was the accident that took my legs at all related to the death of my cat Cleo, less than 6 months after I returned home from the hospital? No, it certainly didn't cause her death, but the accident was the rock and the ripples move outward in circles, not in a linear pattern, so that moment has an impact on my perception of the world moving in all directions from that moment in time. One of those ripples was the arrival of Hobbs.
I mention Cleo because she was the cat that I had found in Corpus Christi, Tx while I lived there in 1998. She had moved with me from there to Fort Worth and then home to Indianapolis. She was a constant companion and was that cat who wouldn't leave the bed until I got out of bed. While I was hospitalized she had been taken to live in an apartment with a friend. When I was finally healthy enough to move back into my house and live on my own again, she wasn't there. We moved her home once I felt that I could care for her, and she died tragically less than 6 months later. (That story can be found in the archives under September 2006). I was heartbroken, felt utterly betrayed by the universe, having lost my legs less than a year before and then suffering her loss while I was trying desperately to find some normalcy in life again. I was done with pets.
Then, along came Hobbs. Several months after Cleo had died, Jamie, my roommate at the time asked if I would consider getting a new cat. He had a friend who was moving and couldn't take her cat with her. I wasn't thrilled with the idea, but agreed to give it a chance. (This is where the ripple stems back to the stone of the accident. If the accident had not happened, Jamie would not have moved in to help me live independently. If that had not happened, he wouldn't have been there to ask me to take his friend's cat). The night that Hobbs was introduced to our household, which then consisted of myself, Jamie, and his dog Teaka, I was reluctant to connect with the five year old gray tiger striped cat. His green eyes showed very little intelligence, and he didn't appear to know his name, but as he sniffed his way around the house he eventually came across the back of the couch to where I was sitting and head butted me in the back of my head.
Within a few days he had taken to sleeping curled up near my stomach or on my residual upper legs. He also became the cat who thinks he is an alarm clock and began waking me at feeding time daily by climbing all over me and rubbing up against my face. He also had an interesting habit of climbing up onto my shoulder, where he would perch and actually ride around as I moved through the house. He had health issues and appetite issues; there were times during those first several years that I thought we were going to lose him, but he was so sweet and loving, and so received the best care that I could give him. That said, it was a struggle to keep him alive, especially because he wanted to graze and come to his food when he wanted it, but after his little sister Jasmine arrived, that food would be gone if I didn't put it up where she couldn't get it. I had a constant battle to keep him at a healthy weight while also keeping her from becoming obese. This battle went on for years.
Most of his health issues were tied to his appetite, many of which were resolved after Jasmine had kidney stones. I had to put her on a special diet, which also meant changing Hobbs food because no matter how attentive I was, she always managed to get some of his food. Hobbs loved her special diet and, aside from still wanting to graze, most of his appetite issues were resolved.
Hobbs was the cat who would wait at the door for me to come in. I would hear his "meow" long before I made it to the ramp to get inside. Once in the door he was quickly in my lap and would clearly get annoyed if my lap was already full of groceries, packages, etc. Whether I had my prosthetics on or not, he wanted to be in my lap and would find the easiest route to get there. If he wasn't in my lap, he was following me around the house until I would settle, at which point he would claim my lap. If I was outside on the deck, he would sit inside and stare at me until I came in, at which point he would claim my lap.
Despite the occasional accidental roll over a poorly laid tail, Hobbs became very comfortable with the wheelchair, even to the point of simply riding around the house with me as I went about the day. Stretched out on my lap; his upper body propped up on top of my residual right leg while his lower body stretched across the wheelchair cushion and occupied the space that my shorter residual left leg does not. He was truly the emperor of this household. He had tall pointy ears that made him look slightly Egyptian and definitely royal. He also had a snaggle tooth fang that was usually on display.
He was so very loving and attentive. When guests would arrive he would stand on the coffee table and approach them with a demanding Meow to simultaneously say both "hello" and "you must pet me now." He had a habit of getting up in the night and I think forgetting where he'd left me, as many nights he would meow from the living room until I would call out "where's my Hobbs?" and he would come running. He always came when I called out that question, no matter where I was, or he was in the house.
Not only did Hobbs open me back up to care for new pets again, but after my parents put their cat to sleep and my dad no longer wanted to suffer that loss again, Hobbs worked his way into my dad's heart while they cared for him while I was out of town. About a week after I had returned home, mom and dad got a new kitten, who fills their home with love too.
As our household changed, he adapted. Eventually Jamie moved on and it was just me, Hobbs, and Jasmine who is 6 years younger than him. She was a 3 month old kitten when she appeared on our deck and claimed us as home a year or so after Hobbs moved in. He slept next to me every night and would throw a fit if he couldn't get into the room where I was...which we learned after Irena came into my life. He loved her too, and came to love her children as they became my step-children and our household expanded...including a dog, Macckus. Macckus is a 60 pound Mountain Cur.
Hobbs was 16 when Macckus became his three year old canine step-brother. Hobbs showed that dog who was boss more than once, but actually loved Macckus and would get very affectionate whenever he was near. Macckus was a bit freaked out by this, and would eventually move away, which would typically draw several swats from Hobbs for rejecting his love. Hobbs would rub all over Macckus' back, which the dog didn't mind, until Hobbs ultimately decided to shove his face into Macckus' ears for a good cleaning. That generally was the last straw for the dog. Hobbs would slap him as he walked away and then return to my lap.
Hobbs was about 18 when we moved into our new house. He adapted to the new environment well, even showed that he knew enough to stay close to the house when he accidentally got out. It was here that he started sleeping in the crook of my right shoulder. Over the last two years he developed a habit of coming to bed with us at night, getting up and going out to the family room where he would sleep in Irena's recliner until about 4am and would then come back to our bedroom and force his way up by my chin & shoulder...to the point of nudging my chin out of the way until he could lay where he wanted. He was very particular about which direction I would be laying as well. If I was on my left side, facing east, he would walk behind me and pull at my CPAP hose until I woke up and rolled over. Once I was on my right side, facing west, he would walk in a circle a few times, rubbing my chest, chin, and arm until he had positioned himself where he wanted, usually with his head and snaggle tooth fang resting against my shoulder or bicep. He would stay in this position until morning.
This last year has been difficult for Hobbs. He adapted to my step-son's young cat joining our household, and though he accepted young Freya, it was clear he was still king. His age has been more and more apparent, as he started missing jumps and moving stiffly. During the last year I know that I've personally watched three of his nine lives pass before my eyes. At the age of 21, I don't know how many have passed when I wasn't present, but I've known for some time now that my time with him was coming to an end. Though his appetite was still pretty good (despite his desire to graze and the ongoing battle to keep Jasmine out of his food) his weight had begun to diminish a year or so ago.
In March, just days before my birthday, he began peeing on the bed and he pretty much stopped eating. We have a barn door on our bedroom that doesn't have a lock. No matter what we did to keep him out, if I slept in the bed he would find his way to me around 4am and ultimately he would pee somewhere he shouldn't. So, while I tried to come to grips with putting him to sleep, I moved into the office, where his litter box is, and slept on the couch for about three nights, so that I could save the bed and protect Irena from being peed on too, until we got through the weekend and I could connect with the vet.
This, of course, was during the one of the coldest weeks of the late winter. The progression was quick and his eyes soon glazed over during that weekend. I discussed putting him to sleep with the vet as soon as I could reach her office. In the wee small hours on the morning of my birthday, I told him it was ok to go if he needed to, that I didn't want him to be in pain, but that I wasn't ready to let him go and would appreciate it if he could give me more time, at least through my birthday. That day he started eating again and his eyes cleared up and he returned to peeing in the box.
He gave me five more months, and would have probably hung on even longer if given the chance. For several months his health continued to defy the odds for such a senior feline, but his weight continued to decrease. Then, in June, just before we left on an 8 day cross country drive, his health turned south and he stopped eating well again. I didn't want to risk him dying while we were gone, thinking I had abandoned him, and the vet convinced me to try an appetite enhancer. This worked, and he improved a bit in my step-son Cameron's care while we were gone. In short order, Irena and I were off again for a week in Michigan and I had the same concerns, but he was sleeping in Irena's recliner when we got home and he immediately opened his eyes, meowed accusatorily..."where have you been, pet me now, I'm glad you're home"...and walked onto my lap as I approached in the wheelchair.
We had about a month of the normal routine, waking up each morning with his furry form under my chin, before he started peeing on the bed again...then the new couch. This time I moved out to the family room to protect the bed, Irena, and the new couch. For about a week the laundry machines were running almost constantly. The vet checked to see if there was some medical explanation for his behavior beside old age, but there was not. The appetite enhancer was barely working.
Even with me sleeping on the couch he still insisted that I sleep on my right side so that he could curl up against that arm from about 4am until I decided to get up...some nights he was there from the point I went to sleep until I awoke the next morning...for the past several months he had stopped trying to wake me up at the normal feeding time and was more content to lay on my shoulder facing the west. Last Wednesday morning, on August 11th, we put him to sleep.
Against our vet's advisement, Irena and I brought him home to lay him to rest in our yard. Though he was an inside cat, he did like to go out when he could get away with it. Macckus was really good at herding him back toward the door whenever this would happen. but over the last several months he's been so happy in my lap that I could take him out on the deck with me and he would be content to stay with me for about 20 minutes at a time, but he wasn't outside enough to have a favorite spot. When we got home the boys had just finished digging a grave that we had picked out the night before, and had taken the time to make a bouquet of flowers they picked from around the yard. Cameron turned on music appropriate for such a great feline's funeral, and they and their mother supported me as best they could as I held him and felt his fur on my skin for the last time. We placed him in a garden just north of the deck off our bedroom, facing west, as he would lay each morning with me. I miss him terribly.
In the room where he was put to sleep, an exam room at our vet's office that is decorated specifically to be a peaceful and comfortable environment for a beloved pet's last moments, there is a poem about life for our pets on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge. A place where our pets are young, whole, and healthy again. A place where all their needs and joys are met except for one...they are keenly aware of their human's absence, until that day when their preternatural senses tell them that we have arrived and they are reunited with our souls.
I found this comforting, as I believe all of our souls are eternal universal energy, and that when we shed our corporeal forms we become one with the divine power that permeates our universe, and thus we are able to be closer to our living and deceased loved ones than ever before. Still, I have struggled with his absence since last Wednesday. Last Saturday, as Irena and I were listening to the opening performance of the Dave Matthew's Band at Deer Creek (Ruoff Music Center), Irena pointed out a rainbow that was shining off a silvery cloud shortly before sunset. As Dave Matthews sang his opening number I found myself watching the Rainbow Bridge and feeling some peace that Hobbs is there, hopefully having found Cleo by now (though she passed before he came to be with me, her scent and her spirit were all over our old home), waiting happily for the rest of their family to come join them, where they can each be in my lap once again. For now they will have to be content with the lap, or shoulder...as the case may be..., of God.
