We had only been married for a short time when we adopted our first kitty. We had both grown up with dogs but thought a cat was much better suited to apartment living. We did a little research to find out when the local pound was open and found out that they were only open late on one day a week, Wednesday. They didn't have weekend hours either. I have no idea how they expected people who worked all day to be able to adopt these animals but I digress.
We went to the pound on that Wednesday evening and found out that if you wanted to adopt an animal you had to get on a waiting list for said animal and then if the people ahead of you did not adopt it by a certain date, you had the opportunity to adopt. (Again, I don't know how they expect people to adopt these poor animals.) So we asked them to show us all of the kittens that would be euthinized the next day if the were not adopted. Out of all the kittens we saw, I wanted to adopt a small, gray female but Sir Lancelot wanted an orange male with big ears. Now I don't care for orange cats much and I begged and pleaded for the gray one, but his mind was made up. So we went home with the little orange kitty in a box with a towel and I cried for all the kitties that would die the next day.
We went through a couple of names before we settled on Roscoe P. Kitty. He was so cute and playful. His favorite toy was a box. It didn't matter what kind of box, he just wanted a box to play in. About a week after we got him, he developed a bit of an URI so back to the vet he went. The antibiotics made him sleep a lot and he spent a lot of time curled up on my shoulder while he slept. He managed to worm his way right into my heart!
Apartment living was fun with him. One night he climbed one of the speakers, walked across the entertainment center onto the mantle and knocked over a crystal candlestick holder. He insisted on walking through the glass while I was trying to clean it up and I had to toss him across the room into the dining area to get him to stop. He also gave me quite a scare when I couldn't find him when I came home for lunch one day. It turns out that he had managed to get behind the washer but couldn't turn around to get out or back up.
It was probably 6 months later that we bought our first house. Then he had lots of space to explore and play. It wasn't too long before we adopted another kitty to keep him company. They never became best buddies, but they did keep each other company and 2 kitties are certainly more entertaining than one!
Roscoe's favorite place to be was in Sir Lancelot's lap. As soon as Sir L would get in the recliner and spread a blanket on his legs, Roscoe would jump up and start purring. They were best buddies! They watched football together, napped together and played together. Roscoe would be at the door when Sir L would get home. In fact, I always knew when Sir L pulled into the driveway because Roscoe would start meowing quite loudly.
Roscoe grew into his ears and at one point tipped the scales at 21 lbs. He would lay across the hallway and we would call him a speedbump. He refused to drink out of a bowl and would wait in the sink for you to turn the water on. He also loved to jump in the shower after we were done. He would give sweet little kitty kisses but hated being picked up.
A little over a month ago, he developed a little kitty cold. We didn't take him to the vet as he got over it in a couple of days. But we started to notice that he wasn't eating as much or as often. We thought he didn't like the food and tried other brands, both crunchy and wet. Then he stopped drinking. Off to the vet we went. They did some blood work which came back clean, so they gave us an antibiotic & appitite stimulant to give him and they gave him subcutaneous fluids. Over the next 2 weeks we gave him the medicine but he still wasn't eating much. Back to vet we go. They did some more blood work and it showed that he was anemic. So, more subcutaneous fluids, another antibiotic and a steroid. By the time his follow up appointment with the vet arrived, I knew something was really wrong. He was very weak (again, not eating or drinking) and lethargic. I worked from home the day of his appointment so I could spend the day with him. I sat in the recliner with a blanket and he laid on me the entire day and didn't move. (Very unusual since he usually didn't want anything to do with me.) When we got to the vet, he said that it looked like he had fluid in his abdomen. He drew some out and it was a strawlike color. The vet told us that he was 99% sure that it was cancer and the only way to know for sure was to do an MRI or CAT scan or just open the cat up. We decided that he had suffered enough and had had a good 13 years that he wouldn't have had. It was the hardest decision I have ever had to make. We stayed with him right through the end. I shed a lot of tears that weekend and I still cry sometimes.
It is a little quieter in our house. A little lonelier. I miss him waiting for me in the bathroom for a drink when I get up in the morning. I miss him bounding down the stairs when it was time to eat. I even miss him biting me because I picked him up against his will. I miss all the little things he used to do.
So here's to you Roscoe P. Kitty (aka, the Manatee, speedbump kitty, fatso, Walrus, baby kitty, pig, Turkey Burgler, Pumpkin Pud) . . . may you rest in peace! We will always love you!
Roscoe P. Kitty
1996-Nov. 20, 2009
