Meet My Cats
Clio
April 15, 1991 - January 7, 2006
My first cat was Clio. There were two kittens in the cage-a girl and a boy. I had always wanted a female kitten. The vet's assistant told me that Clio was the female, so that was the one I wanted to take home.
Clio was quite undersized for his age. She was three months old, but looked like she was only about six weeks old. She'd spent his entire life in that little cage, with her mother and her brother. She was a dark charcoal grey tabby, with bits of butterscotch, and white markings. Most of her hair was short, but she had these long dark bits of hair that stuck straight out. I wouldn't exactly say she was cute the first time I saw her. She looked like a cat-shaped porcupine. Clio was actually in the category of ugly, in a cute kind of way. I instantly named her Scruff.
The vet was offended at the name. He knew how sweet the cat was. I, however, needed a name by which to call the cat.
After she was let out of the cage, she went to the carrier that I brought with me and sniffed it. Then she decided he wanted to explore the room that she had looked at for so long. Clio (aka Scruff) wanted nothing to do with me. I almost left her there at the vet's because of this. But I decided I would give her a chance, despite her aloof nature.
Scruff came home with me, and after sniffing out her new residence, she finally decided to get acquainted with me. That's when I discovered how loudly this cat could purr. Scruff was also very affectionate. She followed me around non-stop.
Not only that, Scruff was a great hunter. The first night, Scruff captured and killed a roach. I was so proud of her. She also managed to kill a lizard. But with me, she was as gentle as she could be. Scruff understood the difference between prey and family. She was also very protective of her home.
Within two days, Scruff blossomed. The longer dark hair started to blend in, and the shorter thick hair started to grow. Scruff was beautiful. So beautiful that it was not right to call this cat "Scruff." So I renamed her "Clio," after the Greek muse of history Clio liked her new name and responded to it immediately.
Clio was a very social kitten. Every day when I got home from work, she'd climb up my legs, up to my shoulder. There she'd curl up and purr as loudly as she could.
Unfortunately, with my super sweet cat came fleas and earmites. Clio would patiently sit through her weekly baths, demanding as her payment an hour-long hug, which I was always happy to give him. She sat on the counter and allowed me to put the medicine in her ear, never biting or scratching. Just patiently waiting for it to be over.
I'd never heard of a cat who would tolerate such treatment. Clio was no ordinary kitten. Once she adopted something, she felt it her duty to care for it.
When I threw a Halloween party, Clio had to be right in the center of it. She was not afraid of all of the people who were invading her home. Instead, she held court with them and demanded her due attention.
All this time, I still thought that Clio was a girl. I had also recently gotten engaged, and decided to host a dinner party to introduce my parents to his parents. Clio always thought that guests in the house meant people to cuddle.
Clio climbed up on my soon to be mother-in-law's lap and laid on her back, purring of course. She looked at me as I referred to Clio as her over and over again. Finally, she could take it no more, and she pointed to Clio.
"This is a male," she said simply.
I shook my head and insisted the Clio was a girl. I'd been so informed by someone at the vet's.
She insisted that Clio was male, and pointed to some protrusions near his back legs as evidence. I insisted that those were tumors and I had an appointment with the vet on Saturday to find out if they were harmful.
Needless to say, the mother-in-law was right and I was embarrassed. Clio was, indeed, a male. I'd already changed his name before, from Scruff to Clio. But that had been some time ago. I decided not to change the name again, but rather, to accept that Clio was a male and keep his name as Clio.
Most people who name their cats "Cleo" are naming them after Cleopatra. But as I had spelled the name differently, I felt that I could keep the name.
On the plus side, when he was old enough to be fixed, he was going to cost less. But the down side was that I had really wanted a female cat. I had always thought that they were sweeter and more evenly tempered. Clio, however, was a really great cat. He insisted on laying on me whenever I sat down, on climbing up my clothes when I got home from work (because I was not quick enough bending down to pick him up), wrapping himself on my pillow at night and purring me to sleep.
I could not ask for a more affectionate cat.
Clio also loved cats. Some cats are meant to be solitary, and others need to have a buddy. Clio was the type that needed to have company. He didn't like to be alone. I tried introducing him to other cats, but they always hissed at him, which broke his heart. I could always see, by the look on his face, that he was upset by the other cat's behavior. He wanted nothing more than to have a buddy. It seemed that he would not get his wish.
For Clio's first Christmas, I got him a condo, which I placed by my bed. Clio loved it, and slept on it every night. Unfortunately, my apartment did not have central heating, and after my first heating bill, I realized I couldn't afford to heat my bedroom. I moved to the living room.
Clio, who didn't actually meow as much as squeak, suddenly started to act strangely. He'd meow constantly. I knew something was bothering him, but I couldn't determine what it could possibly be. I changed his food. He ate it, but he didn't stop meowing. I changed his litter. He used it, but he didn't stop meowing.
This went on for three days. Clio was getting frustrated because I wasn't doing what he asked. And I was getting frustrated because I couldn't figure out what was wrong.
Finally, Clio found a way to communicate with me. He sat down at the head of the couch. And then he meowed once, very loudly. Clio then got up and started to walk toward the bedroom. When I didn't follow, he stopped and meowed again. So I got up and followed him. Clio then jumped on his condo, and he meowed again. He hopped off of the condo, and walked back into the living room. He sat down next to the couch, and he meowed.
I picked up his condo and moved it next to the couch. He laid down on it and went to sleep. And I realized that I had just been commanded, by a cat, to rearrange the furniture. But what really impressed me was the level of thought he had to put into his communication. Clio understood that I was trying to help him. I just didn't know what he wanted. He had to figure out how to explain what he wanted to me. It was an extremely complicated piece of communication. And for him to figure out how to get his message across to me in such a clear and precise way was impressive.
I immediately understood that I had a truly exceptional cat.
Aside from being quite smart, he loved to go places. He was not afraid of dogs, or other cats. He wanted to be a member of an animal family, and for the first few years of his life, his best friend was my parent's dog Sparky. Clio visited them frequently, and when my apartment lease ran out, I moved in with them temporarily. I was getting married, and we were going to get an apartment, but there was not much sense in renewing my lease, or moving into a different apartment, until that time. So Clio got to live with his best friend.
In March 2003, Clio was diagnosed with feline diabetes. It was a very rough year for both of us. Soon after he was diagnosed, he began to develope neuropathy--a nerve ailment which happens when there is too much sugar in the blood. He got worse and worse, and I actually thought about putting him to sleep, because I knew he was suffering terribly, despite all of my efforts to help him. I tried a new vet, and she put him on different medication. Soon he was on the road to improvement! His neuropathy disappeared, and he was acting like a cat who is half his age. He got shots twice a day and had a diet of 'kitty atkins' in order to regulate his blood sugar levels.
Clio had the absolute best temperament about his shots. He didn't fight me on them. Clio loved dry food, but he could not have it. He wanted a lot of things that just weren't feasible for a diabetic cat.
On December 23, 2005, Clio turned yellow. He had had a liver issue previous to that, which had been treated. Unfortunately, age, and probably diabetic influence on organs, caught up with us. When I took him to the vet, xrays revealed a large tumor on the liver. I decided that he should not have to suffer an operation that probably wouldn't help much anyway.
I wanted Clio to have a wonderful time, but never to really suffer the effects of his ailment. Beginning on January 1, 2006, Clio got everything he'd been denied for almost three years -- he got dry cat food, and Twinkies (Clio loved Twinkies), and marshmellows. He was allowed anything that I was eating, if only he asked for it. I still gave him his shots, at the vet's recommendation. At the end of the week, I took him to the vet and had him put to sleep.
I am sure that he could have lived for another three months, as the liver disease gradually took over his system and he'd suffer more. However, I couldn't allow him to suffer, and I wanted him to have everything he'd had to give up. I miss him a great deal.
Sam
When I first met Sam, I'd gone to pick out a gray kitten, a gray tiger striped kitten, to be precise. There was a cute kitten who met the description, but Sam pushed though my preconceptions. He was not cute, but he was sweet and loving. He wanted attention, and the gray did not. Sam made me love him just by being persistant.
Sam is incredibly energetic and athletic. He also is stubborn. When Sam sets his mind to something, it takes a lot to redirect his attention.
Sam is a one-woman cat though. He doesn't deal well with other people, and goes into hiding whenever anyone else comes into the house. But he more than makes up for it in the amount of attention he lavishes on me (and he used to lavish affection on Clio). Sam does not like to be alone and can almost always be found on my lap.
Sam went with me when I put Clio to sleep--I wanted him to say goodbye. He always yelled at me whenever I took Clio somewhere and came home without him. I knew he needed to know what happened. Sam laid next to him for a while, and seemed to be content. He didn't seem to show much emotion, but he did allow other people (my mom and the vet) to pet him, and he was not ready to leave when we were. Sam also didn't cry about Clio when we got home--he knew, and he had said goodbye.
About a week after Clio passed, I got another cat, Gus. Boy was Sam mad! I had thought he would want a buddy, as he'd never really been alone. He did not. He has since learned to get along with Gus, and he loves to play with him. But when Gus first arrived, Sam wanted nothing to do with him. Sam, ever a timid cat, has finally asserted himself as the head-cat.
Gus
Gus is a carmel-colored striped tabby cat. He's about as sweet as a cat can be, and his purr is so loud you can hear him in another room.
Gus came to me very shortly after I lost Clio. My boss had just lost her dog and was getting a pair of puppies. She went to the pet store to get supplies for her pups, and saw a cat that she just knew was for me. After much protesting, she dragged me to the pet store.
The cat she'd picked for me was not the one I was supposed to have though. There was this gorgeous black, fluffy cat that I wanted to look at. Gus was in the same cage with black-and-fluffy. When I opened the door, Gus jumped into my arms, purring as loudly as he could, while black-and-fluffy ducked to the back. Gus would not go back into the cage; he insisted on purring in my face and rubbing all over me. He very much was telling me that there was no need to look at other cats, as he was supposed to be mine.
I decided to listen to him.
For his sake, that was a very good thing. Shortly after I signed the papers on him, I really listened to him. His purr was not the only sound--he had an extremely bad cold, verging on pneumonia. It took three visits to the vet, and just as many courses of treatment, to get him cured. He was on antibiotics for about 30 days.
Gus still has some issues with his lungs, and I've discovered that he's allergic to catnip also.