R.I.P. Kitty Cat

"What kind of cat is Mick Jagger?"

"He's a Kitty-cat!"

- Shady-Bob, responding to his girlfriend's question about my cat, circa 1998

Mick Jagger has left the building.

I had to put my scruffy old cat to sleep this morning. He was deteriorating pretty fast. Extremely skinny, pretty wobbly, occasionally puked blood, and was losing control of his bowels.

He had a long life. As best we can tell, he was probably between 16 and 20 years old. I got him in 1992, and he was already an adult cat. My girlfriend at the time's sister's co-worker had four cats and was moving and could only have three at their new place. Mick was the odd-man-out, mainly because of his attitude (bad). She asked me if I wanted to take him and I said yes. I named him after the front man of my favorite band, and tried to get acquainted. Easier said than done. He buried himself in the back of several closets for the first three days and I didn't see or hear one peep out of him. I kept trying to coax him out, but he was having none of it. I figured he was just going to die in the back of my closet.

The night of the third day, I was suddenly awoken from slumber by the cat standing on my chest, meowing, and licking my face. He's been my buddy ever since. I guess he just needed some time to adjust to his new bearings, and then decided I was alright after all.

He was crotchety right from the start. He hated other cats, despised dogs, and didn't want anything to do with people either. For the first 6 or 7 years, most people didn't even know I had a cat because he would never show himself if anyone was around. But every night he'd jump up on the bed, curl up next to me, and purr himself to sleep.

In his older age he seemed to mellow out a bit, and would come out to see what was going on when people would come over. He still hated other cats and dogs though. When we got our two dogs he spent a good amount of time punching the shit out of them and hissing like nobody's business. The dogs learned to stay out of his way for the most part.

He'd been steadily losing weight for some time and we could tell he wasn't as comfortable as he used to be. He would hide more often, but still would creep out to lay on my chest while we watched movies.

Last night he slept all night in the bed, which was unusual lately. I think he felt he was nearing the end, and I didn't want him to hurt or suffer. The doctor said she thought she felt a mass near in his abdomen, but she might have just been saying that for my benefit. Either way, he wasn't doing well, and now he's not in any pain.

R.I.P. Mick Jagger, miss you buddy...

KJT - Seattle (2008)