Almost three years ago, he was just tiny. His eyes hadn’t opened when the other’s did, and consequently, he didn’t get his place at mom’s milk bar. Mom was a rescued school-yard stray who came to us hungry and pregnant (of course). After all, they say no good deed goes unpunished. But we let her adopt us, and gave her a little dark place in my office to have her kittens.

But this little one was not well from the first. He didn’t seem to suckle easily, and he could not keep up with his brothers and sisters when they scrambled for their dinner faucets. I noticed one day that he seemed to be failing altogether. So I picked him up, dreading, but planning, to stop his short life and his troubles.

But, for some reason, I got some warm cream instead, and let him lick it off my finger. I put him on my desk on a hand towel, but he kept crawling over to my hand to curl up and nap. Later, I progressed to soft cat food, and he took up residence on the toe of my shoe.

When the others were big enough to give away, I convinced myself that he needed just a little more care, and we could find a home for him in a week or two (what could it hurt?). A couple of months later, when he was big enough, he would follow me and Katy to the dock for our evening fishing ritual. He was still a weakling, and had, shall we say, a somewhat lackadaisical attitude toward personal kitty-hygene. I named him Fishcat Charlie, after my favorite stink bait.

Like I said that was three years ago, and now he’s laying across about half of my desk, spread out as only a big tom cat can, watching the humming birds outside the window as I type this. Every once in a while, he looks at me, just to be sure I too, enjoy a particularly brilliant green blur at the feeder.

Then he stretches and knocks off a pile of finished reports. I scratch him under the chin and with my nose touching his, remind him that it’s not too late for me to put him out of his misery.

He gust grins and winks at Katy.

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-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), August 26, 2001

Answers

Yeah, well, I think it's perfectly all right to spell "just" with a "g".

Anyway, I was distracted by the hummers. The fall migration has started, and the little emerald ones are swarming my feeders. In a week or so, the bigger ones will come through, their tummys shining in the sun like they are copper plated. It always amazes me that these tiny things fly from here, across the great Gulf to winter grounds in central Mexico.

There's a high point on the barrier island near here, called Smith woods. It's a stand of large old oaks festuned with Spanish moss, and it's the first green that the little birds come to when they return in the early spring. Birders come from all over to see the "warbler fallout", as flight-weary travelers literally fall from the sky into the trees.

Hope all of you are enjoying the pagent as summer begins to gather her skirts and retire for the year.

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-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), August 26, 2001.

Lon, I could read your stories all day and never grow tired of them. I really hope you publish some of your work. I know others would enjoy it as much as I do.

We had a tiny kitten wander into our garage many years back. (Or perhaps someone dumped him there.) The vet said he couldn't be more than 4 weeks old. I bought a small bottle and formula at the pet store and started frequent feedings. He began to get stronger and soon he was able to eat soft cat food. I kept him in a box filled with soft towels and jokingly named him Jack... "Jack in the box." Our dog wasn't too fond of cats and I knew we couldn't keep him. I would scratch behind his ears and tell him, "One of these days you're gonna have to 'hit the road' Jack!" :-)

My husband's sister had a beloved Siamese who was 15 years old and in failing health. She lived alone, and "Tasha" was her life. We all worried about what would happen when she passed. One day I took Jack for a visit, hoping she would fall in love with him. She did! It was a wonderful solution for everyone.

He grew to 20+ pounds and quickly became the king of his castle. Because of his beautiful markings, his new name became Tiger. To this day, though, when I go for a visit, I still call him Jack... and I swear he smiles! :-)

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), August 26, 2001.

Gayla, we can always count on you to say something nice.

:-)

Charlie's big-framed, but not near 20 pounds yet. I haven't gotten him neutered because he has just the gentlest personality, and I'm afraid that it might change. Once, when he got an absess behind his ear, he came and lay in my lap while I lanced it, and never even squirmed. As far as I know, he has never killed anything, although his mother brings us a little yard mole or even some dove feathers once in a while. Besides, there seem to be no available girl kitties in the area, and he's sorta a stay-at-home kind of guy. (After all, who needs girls when you got your own fishing dock?)

At night, if he's in his domestic cat mood, he will want to sleep in on my bed. When he gets ready, he will sit and stare at me until I finally give up and go to bed myself, then he LEAPS up into his spot. He will absolutely not go to bed by himself!

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-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), August 26, 2001.

Our two pups, for a long time, would not eat without being both there. When one went to the vet, they both went. If it involved an overnight stay, the vet would arrange to have both of them together. They refused to eat out of separate (but equal) bowls, instead they both emptied one then moved together to the other one. They would even share bones (each take an end), but they won't share with their adopted brother. He, on the other hand, waits until his sisters are present to eat, and he likes his bowl to be just touching theirs.

Wouldn't it be nice if humans could get along as well?

-- gene (ekbaker@essex1.com), August 26, 2001.

yay stories!

-- helen (my@five.minute.break), August 27, 2001.

I second Helen - Yea! Stories! Lon and Gayla and Gene... wow!

Now you have to suffer through mine ;-)

We've had 4 cats. My first cat was a very smart cat with lots of personality. She and our parrot used to have conversations, of sorts... Pierra (the parrot) had a large round cage which sat on the floor with a perch that was fixed to the roof. For most of the day, the bird would sit on the perch on top of her cage and watch the world go by. Beauty (the cat - she was black, you see) loved to tease the bird by 'twining round the cage rather as if it were a favorite human's legs, waving her long fluffy tail rather like a flag in the bird's face. Pierra, naturally, always fell for the bait and would chase her around the cage, trying to grab that tail that would always be ... twitched... out of the way at just the last second. Well, almost always. One day, Beauty (Cat was Pierra's name for her) was just a little bit slow with the twitch and Pierra triumphantly grabbed a few hairs! Well! Beauty, of course, just had to get even. Sooo, the next time Pierra's cage was cleaned, and Pierra was up on top, into the cage jumps Beauty. Pierra was outraged at the effrontery of this animal daring to enter Her territory! .. But... well, she didn't quite have the courage to go into the cage and chase Beauty out. I'm sure if she'd had hands, she'd have wrung them. Finally, Beauty decided that she'd proved her superiority and, nose (and tail) high in the air, stepped daintily out onto the floor. I think she might have been a little concerned about what might fall onto her immaculate fur if she chose to stay longer. Chase the tail continued to be a favorite game for them both until we returned to Canada, and got Pierra a rectangular cage that sat up on the counter top.

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), August 28, 2001.

The Vet called it feline viral leukemia. I’d never heard of it, but now Charlie was dying of it. The doctor was a kind man, and suggested that I let him put the big cat down, since the disease was always fatal, and Charlie was already dehydrated and lethargic. But the office was so sterile and foreign, I just didn’t have the heart to have him die there. So, I brought him here, and forced antibiotics and water down him as I could. After three days, he’s worse and visibly failing.

So, this evening I took him down to the dock and we sat for a while and watched the birds flying for their roosts. I scratched under his chin and told him how I forced gruel into his mouth when he was a kitten, so tiny that he curled up on the toe of my old boat shoe to nap. Two rosette spoonbills flew low over the dark water, their feathers blazing in the last of the sun and a snowy egret landed just beyond the still water of our little cove. I told him about the power of life in the water and in the air, and how it is given to each of us for a while, then passes on to another. It enables us to learn, gives us the ability both to suffer and to love. And, when it’s gone, only the love is left, to take with us and to leave behind.

I expect life will loosen it’s grip on him this night and slip away. If so, in the morning we’ll go together to a spot on the bank of the ancient bayou where the wild iris blooms purple in the spring, and the cypresses give shade on summer afternoons. It’s a good spot for a fish cat to take his rest.

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), May 09, 2002.

I do hope Charlie is at peace Lon. Love is never wasted. I'm now going to wake my old dog up and hug him. It's 1:00am, but he wont mind because he knows I'm a crazy old lady. So sorry.

-- Carol (carfred@hotmail.com), May 10, 2002.

I'm sorry, Lon.

-- helen (passing@is.never.easy), May 10, 2002.

(((((((Lon)))))))

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), May 11, 2002.

A good friend is never forgotten, and really not far away Lon...

A RAINBOW BRIDGE

Just this side of Heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food and water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing: they miss someone very special to them; who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. The bright eyes are intent; the eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to break away from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. YOU have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together......." (~Anonymous)

His presence will always live within your being. Hugs to you Lon.

-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), May 12, 2002.

Lon, I'm so sorry. (((Lon)))

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), May 12, 2002.

Thanks, everyone, for your thoughts for Fishcat Charlie. You ain't gonna believe it, but yesterday, after having NO food or water for 8 days, except what I forced down him with an eyedropper, he got up and wobbled to the kitchen and took four swallows of water and lapped up some cat food juice. Then, today, he ate a little food and asked to go outside, where we sat on the steps in the sun for awhile.

He's still very weak, and I really don't think he'll pull through, but it's nice to see him getting around again.

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), May 12, 2002.

WOW Lon~! He just needed a lil more time with you :) He just wants you to know how much he needs to be attached to you, just so you won't forget him~ And so, in times of struggle yourself, you will remember his, and his strength through the worst of times. A lesson I have learned over and over from my four leggeds. Hugs to you and Charlie, and for all the pets who still live within our hearts~

-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), May 12, 2002.

Encouraging info.....

-- R. A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (racookpe@earthlink.net), May 13, 2002.

Good news, Lon! I hope you're mistaken about him not pulling through.

I think that Rob must've infected me whit typing flu during his short fisit with us yeasterday. UGH!! I;m having an awful time witha my key boarddd and my fingres.sgih

-- Tricia the Cancuk (jayles@telusplanet.ent), May 13, 2002.

Maybe he really DOES have 9 lives? ;-)

At least you will have a different memory of these last days. It sounds like he enjoys his time with you in the sun. Remember that old song "We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun..."

(((((Charlie)))))

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), May 14, 2002.

Sorry Lon, I have to ask. Is there any news on Charlie? I am hoping he has youth on his side and is recovering. I hope I am not offending you by asking. Aussies and Americans may speak the same language, but I think a lot of our ways are very different. Cheers.

-- Carol (c@downunder.com), May 17, 2002.

Carol, it is so nice of you to ask about Charlie. Actually, I was going to post an update today anyway. I really don't quite know what to think - the vet said that the disease was always fatal, and that Charlie wouldn't last through the week, because he was so dehydrated. But I continued to try and feed him, and as I said, he started eating a little on his own. Last evening, he actually came to the kitchen table and rubbed against my legs and BEGGED for a little fried chicken. I got him to eat a few small pieces and he drank from the kittie dish. I told him if he kept that up, we might have a cat again, instead of a furry bag of bones.

He still looks like death warmed over, but I'll be darned if he's not getting better. I know nothing of the disease, and maybe that is the course it runs, but at any rate, we've had some little more time together, him to purr and me to pet, and I'm glad for it.

I must be getting old, because I don't usually get so emotional about pets. But, Fishcat Charlie has always been special. There's never been any doubt that he is MY cat, by his own choosing. And he has always been so gentle and trusting; I guess that's why I care for him so much, he's just like Kit in some ways.

Speaking of Kit, he and I went to a graduation party for one of his former class mates this morning. We had about twenty handicapped kids, and I'll tell you, we did SOME bowling! Then off the the pizza place where we relived every pin that fell and toasted each other with root beer. There were kids there I hadn't seen in a year, but who had somehow grown from munchkins into beautiful teenage girls and big ole' shy boys. We all hugged and laughed and had a great time all around (especially me).

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), May 17, 2002.

Happy news!!! :-)

Love can do amazing things... I have no doubt that Charlie's extension of life comes from your love, Lon. And God chose wisely when He picked a father for Kit.

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), May 18, 2002.

We're all pulling for him.

-- helen (pull@for.charlie), May 19, 2002.

Thank you for the update Lon. I will continue to hope for Charlie's recovery. The graduation party sounds like fun. Aren't teenagers wonderful? I love the way they develop into individuals with their own sense of humour and opinions. For all the worry teenage years bring, they also bring a whole lot of laughter. Kit sounds like a very lovable young man and I'm sure he brings you lots of joy.

-- Carol (carfred@hotmail.com), May 20, 2002.