That's Slinky. Uncle Slinky to my kids. He is the pet I've know and loved since early 1989. That's right, Mr. Slink was just shy of his 21st birthday when he died tonight.
He lived a longer life than my brother. Unfathomable.
I remember the day we got him. Our first cat, Slick, had to be put down because he was dying of leukemia. The vet told my mother that we had to wait 30 days until we could get another cat because leukemia is a communicable disease in the feline world.
30 days later and not a minute more, we were off to the SPCA to adopt a kitten. Jon and I didn't even change out of our school uniforms before hopping in my Mom's Malibu.
On the ride there, Mom told us that she wanted to get a female cat this time as they are more docile, willing to be inside all of the time, etc. etc. etc. We nodded frantically, eager to please so she wouldn't change her mind about getting another cat.
When we got there, there were no female kittens to be had. Just two little males, one of whom was already in process to be adopted. There was no way -- NO WAY -- we were going home empty-handed. With 2 pairs of pleading eyes on her, my mother caved and gave up on her quest for a quiet female cat. Slinky was ours.
He rode home in the back seat with us, mewling the whole way. He was so small that he fit in our cupped hands and we passed him back and forth the whole ride home. I don't remember who named him but he earned his name because he looked like a slinky when he was learning to climb up and down our stairs.
Slinky would play musical beds, sometimes sleeping in Jon's and sometimes in mine. He always knew when I needed him and I'd feel him curl up on my back as I laid in bed and fretted over school, boyfriend troubles or whatever drama was going on in my life at the time.
When I went away to college, he took it personally. He'd act very cool towards me like I'd abandoned him even though he was as much everyone else's pet as mine and they took good care of him when I wasn't there. I had to earn my way back into his good graces with a lengthy chin scratching session. He may have been "just a cat" but he was no fool -- he knew who had the best nails in the house. I could get his motor running in no time. He had the loudest purr you ever heard when he was content.
He and Jon used to spar. It was hilarious. Jon would put on a heavy sweatshirt, pull the sleeves down to cover his fists, get down on all fours and box with Slinky. Then when Jon would lose interest, Slink would lie in wait and attack Jon once he'd settled on the couch with his arms uncovered. That cat always had the last laugh, so to speak.
I never saw it in action but I'd bet the house that Jon used to chase him with the vacuum on the rare occasions that he'd need something above and beyond and would help Mom to get her in a good mood.
Slinky was impervious to water. As a kitten, he'd jump up on the kitchen table which drove my mother NUTS. She'd keep a squirt bottle handy and spray him in the face in a vain attempt at deterring him. He'd just tuck his chin into his chest, take the hit on the top of his head and plow forward until he reached his ultimate goal -- the cereal bowl and its luscious milk. I can still picture him hiding behind a Cheerios box, waiting for the coast to be clear. He'd jump in the shower as soon as my father turned it off. I woke up many a morning to my Dad grumbling, "DAMNIT, Slink! At least let me get out first!" He'd pace along the side of the tub when I took a bath, stopping occasionally to take a sip of bath water. I looked like I'd been mauled by a tiger after the time he lost his balance and fell in on me. OUCH.
I remember him sitting on our pizza box, staring down my high school boyfriend. His look said, "I know what you are trying to do with my sister and I DON'T LIKE IT."
Mom used to put him on a leash staked to a pole in the back yard. That way he got some fresh air, could do his business in his favorite bush and wasn't in danger of getting run over by a car. He had a friend that used to visit him at our old house. They never fought, just sat and stared at each other. At Mom's new house, she found him hanging out with a couple of deer in the yard.
He wasn't the most social or loving of animals so when he deigned to let you rub his chin, you felt like you'd earned a special honor. That cat had charisma.
So many memories of Slinky and so many of them tied to Jon and Dad. Losing him is like losing another piece of them. You'd think when someone dies that you lose them and that's it. As time passes, though, you learn that you lose them over and over and over again until you die, too.
I wasn't with my mother when she took him to the vet tonight and I feel so very sorry for that. By the time Tom got home from work, I never could have made it back home before rush hour. I'm just too far away down here. Like I needed another reason to hate this place I refuse to call home.
Farewell, sweet pet. I will remember you at your very best and most spry. I speak for my brother and myself when I say thank you for all of the love and fun you brought to your lives, you crazy legend of a cat.
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