Ode to a Big, Fat Kitty

Ode to a Big, Fat Kitty

I am not a "Cat Person" by any means. But I must note a few words for a kitty that has touched my heart. I do not get all worked up about pets; I do not call myself a "Pet Person" and rarely owned any pets. Yet, I must write a few words for a kitty that has touch my heart.

She was never mine to begin with. I never owned her. She was so fat that first time I laid eyes on her, she looked like an ottoman with paws. My first words to her were, "Dang, that’s a big, fat kitty."

She had a terrible disposition towards me at first. We joked that she did not like me. We also joked that if she could talk she would have the throaty croak of a cigarette-y woman named Vi. Later, we decided her personality was more an Al Swearengen type. It fit.

As the years wore on, we discovered a sweetness underneath. She looked out for our two girls; waiting at the door for them as they returned from school or trips, hopping onto their beds in the dark when they were scared, cuddling with them when they were sad. She was protective of them.

We were settling in, in 2006 or so when she was diagnosed with stomach cancer and given a few weeks to live. Those vets never knew how stubborn she was. Our landlord graciously allowed us to get more cats in light of the news. So here came new kitties. The New Guard was not very welcome by the Old.

As young children are wont to do, their focus of attention was on the young and cute, not the tried and true. Suddenly, she became "our cat", Bonnie’s and mine. She snuggled with us as she still did with our girls, she hunted socks and mittens for us nightly, dragging them into our room to share, she would join us on the couch for movies, Deadwood, and The Daily Show. She then kept the Young Guard in line, even mothering the smallest. When ever we left the house we would call out to her that she was in charge. It was comforting.

Later on her Girls came back around. She became our house mascot. Attention, adoration, responsibility; heavy lies the crown for our big, fat kitty.

...Then, the dog arrived.

Our ever gracious landlord permitted us a dog. So, once again, she made adjustments. Bonnie and I imagined if should could talk, in her best Swearnegen, would say to us, "Kitties pooping, girls need cheering, and now a dog? I have to deal with that!"

But her sweetness shone through once more. She became protective of the young kitties she once railed against. As the dog jostled in her pen, there was our big, fat kitty standing sentinel, keeping an eye on the pup as her kitties ate, or moved past to go upstairs. She also kept the youngster from bothering the pup, agitating her.

Then, when it seemed as if the world had righted itself, and as it must to all cats, death came for our big, fat kitty.

-o-

Bonnie found her Monday morning in a seizure and rushed her to the vets, where she passed. The stomach cancer which threatened her life, finally took it. The vets were surprised at her longevity, having diagnosed her two years ago. Our Girls were able to say goodbye and give our big, fat kitty one final pet before we took care of arrangements.

-o-

She was found in the streets from an abusive home over fourteen years ago. She endured many moves, many younger cats, many other pets. She was in the girls lives the entire time from their arrivals from China. She watched our house, kept things in line, prowled for socks and mittens nightly. She watched over our two girls as a second mother, almost.
Not bad for a Big, Fat Kitty.

Splendid behavior.

Her name was Chelsea.