I want to tell you a story, a story of the most prolific little kitty I had the wonderful pleasure of being a father to for 14 years. His name was Spaz.
I got Spaz at the pound, after checking all the other cages; I came upon him in the last cage. He had been a returned pet of someone else and he was on his last day that the pound was going to keep him. Someone had taken this poor little kitty and apparently abused him because he shrank from my hand as I went to pick him up and hold him. His fur was the softest I had felt in a long time. Someone had named him Houdini, but that changed because the name didn’t fit.
He was the one, the one that I chose. He was so soft and talkative. I remember taking him home, he was in a cardboard cat carrier and I was driving home, and he was talking nonstop, thinking this was it, his time was up, but when we got home and I opened the box, he jumped out and was surprised because he was
in unfamiliar surroundings, my apartment.
I knew to fully become my pet I had to give him a name that fit, and after much deliberation, I sat down to think one night, and lit a candle. He spent so much time investigating the candle, he wasn’t aware of the things going on around him. Finally he took notice and saw that the candle cast his shadow behind him on the floor. When he saw his shadow he jumped, and ran because he thought it was something that was going to get him. I laughed so hard at him for that, and said not to be such a spaz. The name stuck, it was a name to match his personality.
I adopted him in February 14, 1997. He has been with me through so many good times and bad times in my life. I loved him so much. Last night, May 4, 2011 at about 8:30pm, I heard his head thump down where he was laying (on a favorite spot the clean clothes in the hamper), and didn’t respond when I called to him. When I touched him, he usually moves to see who it is, but this time there was no response. I touched his ear to see it move like usual, because he didn’t really like it unless you continued to pet him. At this point, I picked him up, he was still warm, but he was just dead weight, I believed that he had a severe heart attack and passed away without making a sound.
He was such a good kitty. He used to head butt me in the mornings to wake me up, was a very vocal kitty when hungry, he loved his treats and would almost jump up for them, he loved attention and his daddy, and smelled like a corn chip sometimes.
He did have several health problems, they were mega colon, a bad heart murmur, urinary crystals, and a hernia that he had since being neutered at the pound. Despite these health issues, several vets told me he wouldn’t live past 10 years old. When he died, he was 10 days short of having lived 14 years and 2 months.
Goodbye Spaz, I love you and will miss you so much. You gave me so many years of such joy and unconditional love. You will be thought of often and always remembered.
He is going to be buried at my mom’s house under an oak tree. He will be buried in a box (one of his favorite things), laying on a towel (another favorite thing), with his favorite toy squirrel and favorite treats with him.
My world seems just a little smaller now without him in it. It will be hard to come home and not have him meet me at the door or come walking out of the bedroom to meet me. It will be hard to look at the laundry basket and not think of him laying there in it, or waking up to our little furry cow that doubles as an alarm clock without a snooze button.
Please God, take care of my little kitty, my boy. Keep him safe and make sure that he is loved until I can see him again. R.I.P. buddy boy. I will always love you.
In Loving Memory,
| Spaz |
| 4, May 2011 |
| Michael Brett |