It was 1999. I was hanging out with Chaco and Wolfgang, exploring our new neighborhood we'd recently moved to. There was - I think it was - a middle school a few blocks from our rental house.
We'd walked down there on our explorations, checked out the play facilities, and were headed back when I heard a loud
"HELP! SOMEBODY OUT THERE?? HAAAALP!"
At least I'm pretty sure those were the words. It actually sounded more like
"mew. MEOW! MEEEE-OWWWWW!!"
We halted our walk and strained to listen for the source of the distress calls. It became apparent that they were coming from one of those temporary classroom pods sitting outside the main school building. The pod had a raised floor with panels covering the space beneath the floor. Somehow, a cat was trapped underneath the pod, behind those panels.
When we got home, I called the school district to make them aware. I vaguely remember talking to someone who said it would be taken care of. A day or so later, we were once again having an exploratory outing in the area. Once again, "HAAAAAALP!"
"Oh, sheesh", I muttered. Risk of a vandalism charge or no, we went back to the house and returned with a screwdriver, a couple hot dogs, and a sippy cup of milk.
It was short work to remove one of the panels. While I did that, Chaco and Wolfgang were able to take bits of hot dog and pass them through a sliver to the skinny cat beyond.
Soon, he was out. All fur and bones, but not quite on death's door. He polished off the hot dogs, given just little bits at a time, and washed them down with the milk.
"Our work here is done", I decreed. "The cat's free to go back to his home now". And we headed back to our house.
Well, he followed us home, so I got some proper cat food. He hung out in our back yard and ate on the back patio. Nights were getting a little chilly, so I built him a warm cubby out of a plastic tote and some old carpet and pillows.
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| Wolfgang and that homeless cat |
But he can't stay. He's not allowed. He's not ours. We'll call him "Cookie". But he's not ours.
Then one day, I found myself at the vet's. We figured since Cookie was a homeless kitty, we should probably get him/her (we didn't know which at that point) fixed.
That's where and when it hit me. Dammit, Cookie was our cat.
Turns out he was male, fully intact and healthy. We arranged for the end of the "intact", and the deed was done. I paid the bill and was given the invoice. The patient's name listed as:
Cookie Barker
There it was, he officially had the family name.
We allowed him inside our off-limits rental house to recover from his surgery. Lease be damned, we would be moving shortly anyway.
He kept us around for a good 13 years. Then one day, he went out for his usual stroll and never came back. We searched high and low, but I guess it was his time.
I spontaneously snapped this pic of him sitting with Chaco in the glow of the PC monitor. I'd glanced over and saw them sitting like that, and felt I should get that pic. It was later that evening that Cookie left for the last time.
Don't tell Napolion I said this, but Cookie really was the best cat ever. He spent thirteen years thanking us for getting him out of that classroom pod.
See you on the other side, Cookie.
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Linking up this week with MamaKat for the prompt:
1. Tell us about a time you got a new pet.
12 comments:
awwww, best tale ever told!
Such a sweet tribute and noooo, that's not water in my eyes.
Linda Sue, he really was the best cat ever. Can't convince me otherwise.
BootsandBraids, it's like cuttin' onions when I think of Cookie.
That was a great story!!! Well except the ending of course.
Who knows? One day a cat that looks just like him might find you. I know how it feels to have an outside cat go out one night and never come back.
Peggy, yeah, the ending. Worth it, of course. You know how that goes.
John, he was pretty savvy, not one to get catnapped or fall prey. We concluded he knew he was gonna go, so he went.
I think Cookie knew that was his last night at your place and he wanted to say his goodbyes in his own way. How sweet you rescued him and then he became a member of the family for so many wonderful years! I'm assuming the next place you moved to allowed pets?
I've never had a cat as a pet but I used to tell our first corgi, Koda, that when he died I was going to replace him with a cat because he didn't like cats.
Such a sweet story you shared with us; thanks!
betty
Rescued pets are the best. Kudos to you all for making the effort to rescue him. And yeah, I’m in agreement with you. Cookie likely knew he was gonna go, so he went. I’m sure it was heartbreaking for you all.
Betty, yes, mabybe Cookie was the one who "told" me to snap that pic.
We were renting a house while we looked to purchase when we found him. We bought a house shortly afterward, and by the time we moved, Cookie was one of us.
ShadowRun300, I agree that rescue pets are the best. It was a sad time, we looked everywhere. He disappeared without a trace.
Oh man, two of my cats have gone missing on me and it's torture. I never really stop keeping an eye out for them even still. Well, one of them was quite old like Cookie and I'm confident has passed on. Although 13 isn't THAT old. He might have had a good 7 more years on him! You sure managed to get some meet on his bones it looks like. Love the pics!
Yep, good ol' Cookie. He wasn't one to not return from outside. He would come sprinting across the yard when we called him. We subsequently had another stray around for about a year, then she didn't come back one day. She was a wild child, though. I kept an eye out for her, but alas...
Facebook reminded me of a memory this morning, from 3 years ago. April 12th, 2019, the day our cat, Dale, had to be put down.
He was his usual loving self one moment and the next found him unable to move his hind legs. He had thrown a blood clot. Our Vet advised that the best thing to do was to let him go.
It's never the "best thing" but the pets who come into our lives all have a way of letting us know that it's their time. Your Cookie may have made that choice to spare you from any final decision in his life. He took his independence and left, knowing you would never forget him.
Sad, sweet, story, Abby.
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