A Week Without Bob

Bob, our sweet cat--Bob-the-Cat--died Thanksgiving Day, dead suddenly of a heart attack—the first person/animal I ever loved who died suddenly.  He had been sick all morning and at 2:45, while I’m sitting on a tour bus in Hollywood, I got a frantic phone call from Steve.  Bob was dead within minutes.

Sweet Bob—the most gentle animal I have ever lived with.  He came to us as a kitten in June of 2007, the smallest of his litter.  His sister, far more aggressive, came with him, also.  The two were good with each other, but not good with either of us.  They were wild and would run away whenever we approached.  We decided to separate them and immediately we bonded.  Time is strange and life is twice as strange.  Those first weeks in his new home seem like a few weeks ago, but more than nine years have passed. We expected to have him for much longer than we did.  It’s true that nothing lasts, but the unexpectedness of it all is what’s so hard on both of us.

He was named Bobtail because he looked like a small bobtail cat.  He had no tail which may have been a genetic disorder or because he was part Manx.  He was, though, we know, one half Siamese and that gave him the sweet, gentle behavior we had come to know and love.  Plus, it made him quite vocal and he’d actually talk to us.  What he was saying was always a mystery, but he knew when we were talking to him and he’d talk back.  When I’d call him “handsome” he’d squint his eyes as if he were taking in the compliment.  In one of my last memories of him, a memory I will hold on to preciously, the three of a few nights before he died sat on the bed and had a “conversation.”  Maybe he was telling us he wasn’t feeling well.  I will never know.

He was as much dog as he was cat.  He would fetch and come if we called his name.  My cousin referred to him as a dog-cat and it was an apt description of him.  This is why his passing is so much harder because he oozed loveable personality—much the way a dog does.

In as much as an animal can know it’s loved, Bob knew he was loved.  His body language always reflected that.  He was loved by us, by Steve’s parents, Ed and

Rita, and just about anybody who spent time in our home.  If that person were a guest, he’d invariably sleep with him either in the upstairs bedroom or in the basement. How do you not love an animal like that?

We almost lost him in May.  The best the vet could tell us what that he had an “unknown viral infection of feline origin.”  Maybe it was a precursor to November.  Maybe he was strong enough then to fight it.  Maybe it wasn’t related at all.

I was not there when he died and even though I have not slept well and thought of him all the time, I have not yet cried.  The real mourning, I know, will come when I get home, see his litter box, see his invisible shadows all around the house. When he does not jump on the bed at bedtime I will mourn even more. 

Anyone who does not have a pet does not understand that they are part of the family and that their loss is profound.  I still think of our other cats—Fur Person who also died at Thanksgiving, and who I mourned for months.  I mourned less for Cobie who never bonded with us in the same way as Fur or Bob.  Still…the loss is great.

It’s possible to love small creatures.  We cared for him and worried when he wasn’t well.  Now his absence is breaking my heart.  For the past two weeks the entire core of my body has ached. How is that possible?  How is possible to pour so much love into this small, beautiful creature?

We will not own another animal.  If we never left Plattsburgh it would be different, but that is not the life we lead or will lead in the future.  We cannot assume others will be willing to care for the pet the way Steve’s parents had with Cobie and Bob.

This is the end, and that makes it even harder.  He could never, ever be replaced.  All other cats would be compared to him.

Good bye Bob.  I know that when my Creator calls me home I will see you again.  I know that you are now in the hands of my father and brother, who loved cats and will also love you.

I will miss you terribly.