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My cat, Biffy, wasn't always my cat. I would like to think he belonged to
someone else once. That he must have been a kitten once in someone's warm cozy
house, growing up cute as a button with those beautiful soulful eyes that said,
"love me? Please?" Well, probably not; but he should have!
For whatever reason, my cat that was not yet my cat wound up walking the
streets of the neighborhood. We would see him walking down the side of the road
late at night, and we'd offer him the packet of moist cat food that was kept in
the car for just such an occasion. He never did accept it, but instead would
just look at us with this "keep away from me, human!" look. Then he'd
turn around, and walk away with a nonchalant air, showing us his trademark: a
black pin-the-tail-on-the-white-butt tail. Never ever up in the air, but
always hanging straight down. Over the years we saw that
"black tail on white" often, but he never let us get too close. That
is, until we took in his "mistress" Mia, and her (and
his!
) kittens.
Then
we got close enough to finally take him in, get him "fixed", and
eventually join our "family". When we found Mia, my cat that was not
yet my cat was known as "boyfriend" - Mia's boyfriend. I didn't like
calling him just "boyfriend", and shortened it to "B.F.",
or Biffy. The name stuck.
There is so much that I want to remember about Biffy. We had him for 7 years,
and I spent the last seven months caring for him, tending to him, feeding him,
cleaning him, giving him medications, and I want to remember all the special
moments that we shared.
Diane and I got Biffy in 1992. We think he was about 9 years old at the time.
He developed liver disease in 1996, and we treated him with various medications
(see
Biffy's Story). I guess he got pretty used to getting pills by the time we found he had
lymphoma, and was taking them in stride. We started doing chemo treatments in
February 1998. On June 8th, 1998, Biffy had what they suspect was a severe
reaction to one of his chemo drugs, Adriamycin. After this reaction, I made
arrangements to work from home using my PC and a dial-up connection to work.
They weren't happy with the situation, but they agreed. I worked from home for
about 2 months without even going in to the office once. At that point, they
became insistent that I come in at least 2 or 3 mornings a week, which I
managed to do. As of this writing, January 2, 1999, I'm still only going in two
mornings a week.
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He started really getting attached to me; more to me than to Diane (he was
always "her cat" before that). He really did perk up when I got home
from work. He almost always nuzzled my leg when I'd get some treats for him
(roast beef or the like), and he only did it to Diane once. He'd nuzzle me (or
"bonk" me as we also called it) - he'd press his forehead into my leg
and rub. If I went to go downstairs, more often than not he would follow me and
lay down at the top of the stairs and wait for my return.
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If Biffy was in the living room, and decided it was time to go to the bathroom,
he would sometimes walk over to the sheets of computer paper we kept laid out
in front of the coffee table (Kelli loved to lay on it there) and relieve
himself there (Kelli was not
thrilled with this!). Usually, either Diane or I would hear him walk on the
paper, and I would carry him upstairs to the bathroom, where he'd use the
litter box. After he was done, he'd walk out into the hallway, claw-claw-claw
the scratch pad, and lay down at the top of the hallway stairs and wait for me
to finish cleaning the litter box. As soon as I walked past him and went down
the stairs, he'd immediately follow me into the kitchen, sit down at my feet,
look up at me with those big beautiful eyes, and say, "mwrahhhh!",
which loosely translated means "feed me something GOOD!!!!" (see
above). So I'd take out the choice of the day, either roast beef, or Iams
Chicken, or cooked chopped meat, salmon, tuna, (the human
variety of these!) or Purdue "Tenderloin" Chicken Breast (cooked up
especially for him by yours truly while he waited impatiently), or the like.
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The chicken breasts were one of his very favorites for a while. As soon as he
realized that Diane or I was cooking chicken, he'd come in and lay down at our
feet and wait patiently (well, almost!) until it was ready. Then he'd get so
excited, that he'd sit up on two legs, and take it from our hands.
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Biffy
didn't
like:
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At some point, he just decided that he didn't want to stay in the bedroom
anymore. He refused! He'd go over to the door, and claw at the floor, and
mroowww! and he'd sit there staring at the door, until we finally let him go
out of the room. That's when I started sleeping on the living room floor. I'd
bring a blanket and my pillow, and lay down where I could keep an eye on him,
and I'd wake up with any unusual noise. Usually, I'd bring a litter box down
next to the paper so he'd get the hint and use that instead of the paper. A few
months later, we bought a sofa bed for the living room, and Diane and I could
again sleep together. (Diane does
not
like sleeping on the floor!)
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About that time, we also moved the computer to the living room so that we could
keep an eye on him: either me, while I worked, or Diane when she was on-line.
Biffy would hang out either right under the computer desk, in his box by the
front door, or in the dining room under one of the chairs. By having the
computer in the living room, he was constantly in our sight. Often he'd walk
out of his box by the door, walk over to me, and just lay down next to my
chair. He seemed to like being near me, as much as I needed to be near him.
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By the end of December 1998, he was getting progressively weaker, and I knew
that Biffy was "in trouble". When I got home from work on December
31, 1998, Diane was really afraid for him. We finally decided to call the vet,
arrange for him look at Biffy, and then the three of us would make "a
decision". After the phone call, Biffy walked across the room, sat down
and ate a bunch of roast beef. Diane nuzzled him as he ate, and she told me he
was purring. That made it REALLY hard to feel like it was "time". But
we had to make a logical decision based not on how he seemed at that moment,
but rather based on what we knew was just down the road for him. He has had so
many ups and downs, that I always told Diane that we were riding a roller
coaster with Biffy, and that we just had to ride out the tough times 'til he
got better again. But by now Biffy was just getting so weak and wobbly that I
knew that the time was finally getting close. I truly wanted to spare him from
any bad days.
When we brought him to the vet, we had a long talk with him. He has been great
with us and with Biffy. Biffy just lay on his side on the table almost the
whole time. Dr. Z has never seen him like that; Biffy was almost always looking
for an exit. We all finally agreed that the time was right, that the inevitable
was probably only days away. We where there with Biffy as Dr. Z helped Biffy
this one last time - he helped him get to the Rainbow Bridge. Diane told Biffy
how much he was loved by us, and by all the people at the Acme Cat BB, and he
"went to sleep" hearing the names of all the people who loved him.
Now that he's gone, it has really hit me hard. He was the center of our lives
for so long; now there is such emptiness. I miss him so much. Biffy was a
fighter, and a lover, too. He was my friend, my buddy. I know he loved me, more
than any other cat I've ever known; I love him too, and I always will.
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