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He's Gone
by Poster Catsup
Ernie
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He's gone.
Those of you who have been posting here for some time know of this cameo polydactyl kitty who was a beneficiary of my rescue work. He lived as a feral cat for most of his life, being driven from one back porch to another by mops and brooms in the Southern Indiana neighborhood where my parents live. Ernie was a survivor. A scrappy, street-smart cat who outlived the odds on his own for more than eight years, subsisting on whatever he could scavenge or catch, dodging mops, brooms, and even bullets. He survived being shot twice, as evidenced by x-rays that show a BB shot to the head and one to the hindquarters, with both pellets still in his body.
One early spring day about 4 years ago I was visiting my parents over spring break. The tulips were up, the azaleas were in bloom, and this cat showed up on the deck and refused to leave. Thin, greasy, and ragged, he had hung around the neighborhood for years but suddenly sat at the back door after I got there, his sad, green eyes searching for food.
Mom told me about his history as a feral in the neighborhood an remarked that he was "waiting for the next train to Parma." Because he was a polydactyl (eight toes on each foot), my sister dubbed him "Ernie," after Ernest Hemmingway who kept polydactyl cats in his compound on Key West. Making a few calls back home I believed I had lined up a home for Ernie, so I loaded him up in a carrier and took him back with me to Ohio. I promised Ernie that his days of hard street life were over, that he would be fed and cared for for the rest of his life and have a permanent, loving home of his own.
After returning to Parma, the first thing I did was have Ernie neutered and groomed. He was so weak he offerred little resistance to being handled. The poor cat was soaked to the skin with black grease from living under the hoods of cars trying to keep warm in the winter. He was bone thin from malnutrition and covered with fleas. His ears had open, bloody wounds from scratching at the parasites in them. After he was cleaned up, he was absolutely beautiful. His pinkish-cream cameo coat was accented by beautiful black-rimmed apple-green eyes that retained a hint of sadness and fear of humans, who had only ever been cruel to him.
Even though I had readied Ernie for adoption, I discovered the person that said they wanted him would not be able to provide a suitable permanent home, so I ended up keeping him myself. Already having 4 cats, this was a challenge. I tried to make Ernie an indoor cat, but it was evident immediately that this was not going to work. Since getting cleaned up and feeling much better after having medical attention, Ernie began asserting his "opinion" regarding his new accommocations. He ended up destroying the carpet in the room I had isolated him in. He also attacked my other cats, since the only other relationships he had had with other cats were adversarial and territorial.
Ernie also resisted being touched by humans, since the only touch from them he had ever known had always brought pain. My hands were already covered in scratches from his many toes, (each ending in razor-sharp circular talons) and bite wounds from trying to handle Ernie. So, I bought an outdoor insulated house for him and put it on the patio and took him outside. I showed Ernie his house and put down a bowl of food as a distraction while I attempted to put an ID tag and collar on him. Unfortunately when he felt my hands reach for his neck, he latched onto me like a buzz saw,bit all the way through my hand, and ran off into the bushes, giving me an evil backward glance. After spending all this time and money on this animal and the household and personal damage he caused, I was ready to call it quits and simply wrote him off as a runaway.
Several days later I was enjoying an iced tea on the patio and up sauntered Ernie, acting as if nothing had ever happened and we were old friends. I guess he just needed to know he was still his own boss and was free to do as he pleased. After reaching this understanding between us, it was a gradual process of learning to trust humans for Ernie. I allowed Ernie his freedom outdoors during the day, and he could come and go in and out of the house as he wished. However, the hard and fast rule was that he had to come indoors at night. Ernie was quite agreeable to this arrangement, and even developed a way to knock on the door when he wanted inside to get a bite to eat.
Ernie never travelled far from home. If he wasn't sitting on the front porch surveying his domain, he was strolling the back yard investigating the smells and "calling cards" of other animal visitors from the night before, and was often seen sitting on the stone wall fence in the sun. He knew this yard was "his" territory and enjoyed dominating every inch of it, including taunting the neighbor's dog while he sat safely behind the fence.
Ernie did not like to be touched at first, He definately had an attitude about him. He was sort of like a grumpy old man, not liking to be bothered, but living on a distinct schedule, expecting to go "on rounds" at certain times and to be fed promptly when hungry. As a matter of fact, if he was sitting by his bowl in the kitchen and I did not feed him, he would swat my ankles as if to say, "Hey, woman, gimme a beer!" Eventually the vet discovered that the reason for much of his grumpiness was pain. There were five abscessed teeth in this poor cat's head which were removed and helped improve his personality quite a bit.
Ernie finally learned to tolerate the other cats, and even began playing with the two females who he got to know when they were kittens. I think he never saw them as a threat because they were smaller than him. He gradually allowed me to pet him, and eventually he allowed me to pick him up. Gradually he ended up as my bed cat, sleeping at the foot of my bed every night. Several times I awoke to find him perched on my chest, staring at my face intently and purring like a motor boat.
It was obvious Ernie was happy to have his own warm bed, regular meals, and territory that no one chased him off of. He took pride in his home. He was a constant figure on my front porch. Whenever anyone drove into the driveway, he would hop down from the porch and run down the sidewalk to greet whoever would emerge from the car, welcoming them to "his" house.
When outdoors, Ernie played like a kitten in the backyard, chasing leaves and climbing trees, and racing me to the door when we would go into the house. Ernie also liked to ride in the car. Sometimes after greeting me when I drove up, he would hop in the car and insist on a ride. I would drive slowly around the block and he would look out the window just like a dog, enjoying surveying his territory this way. When my sister and I would be on the drive washing cars, he would join us to supervise. If I was gardening, he was always at my heels watching what I was doing to "his" yard.
Over the years, this wiley old curmudgeon weaved his way deep into my heart.
About six months ago, Ernie developed a cough. Just a little "huff" at first, but it grew deeper, more frequent, and ominous. In November, the vet gave us a diagnosis and prognosis: Lymphoma, and just about 6 months to live.
Ernie went down fast and hard. The day after Thanksgiving, Ernie and I went on our last car ride together. The longest ride, from which he did not return. I put him down, because I promised him when I gave him a home, that I would never let him suffer again.
I promised Ernie a loving home for the rest of his life, and I gave it to him: Love, care, food, shelter, and a home of his own. I promised him that no one would ever run him off with a broom or a gun ever again. That this was his home, and his home forever. I promised Ernie that this home will always be his and it is. Ernie was cremated, and his remains will be scattered in the garden in the front yard, near the sidewalk he used to scamper down to greet me at the drive. On an early spring day. When the tulips are up, and the azaleas are in bloom.
I miss him terribly everytime I drive up to his house.
Comments would be appreciated by the
author, Poster Catsu
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