On Friday, November 25th 2011, after 20 years of feline perfection, our family cat Fred was put down due to kidney failure. Fred passed before he could send out some letters he scribed over the years, so I am printing them now on his behalf.
(And yes this is an ode to my cat. Get over it.)
Dear Humane Society,
Thank you saving your massive remodel for AFTER my adoption in 1992. Though now I know you have much more space and safer conditions for the homeless cat community, you also chose to install plastic wall cages instead of the old steal bars I was in. Yes, I know the old cages made us look like sad prison inmates, but at least with those bars I could reach out my paws to any passer by, meow my ADORABLE meow, and hope that one head tilt will do the trick. And with a six year old Alison, it did. If those plastic walls existed when I was in the clink, I may have never went home to my new family.
Sincerely,
Crystal
(more on that later)
p.s. Good luck to all those cats today who have no holes to reach their paws out of. Learn to purr loud, I guess.
Dear First Vet I Visited,
Thank you Thank You THANK YOU for discovering my thing down there and informing my family that I was, in fact, NOT a GIRL cat according to the pink tag on my human society steel cage. If it wasn’t for you and your discovery, I would have been forever known as Crystal, which to a six year old may have been the most beautiful name in the world, but for the rest of us is a name that best belongs to an ugly Tuesday night stripper. Although my second meeting with you was not so pleasant (curse you Bob Barker!), the first time calmed my nerves as I settled into my new boy name, Fred. (How that kid went from Crystal to Fred, I’ll never know.)
Sincerely,
Fred
(Frederick when I’m bad)
(Freddie when I’m being cute)
Dear String,
OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU! I loved how you waved around my face and how you dragged on the floor. I loved how you always slipped from my paws and fell out of my mouth. I loved what a trickster you were, and how you were soon-to-be the poor mans laser pointer. I loved when there was one of you, two of you, more of you, and and and slow down you little devil! Ohhhhhh, I loved you so much. Come here. Come here. I’ll getcha. I’LL GETCHA!
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Christmas Tree,
Sorry for all those times your were mysteriously knocked over when the Tafels came home from school and I was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t me.
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Cat Shaver Lady,
Fuck. You. I’m not sure what evil licensing program you went through, but this whole “grooming” cat thing you do can only be the work of the devil. The loud buzz of the clippers, the large restrainer I have to be put in, the water, dear God, the water. So what if I had mats in my fur that could have caused me pain if left the untouched? Who cares that in the process my smelly body was bathed, my dirty claws were trimmed, and my overall health was improved? YOU TOOK MY MANHOOD BITCH! Whenever I came home, I looked a little more pathetic than the Cowardly Lion after he got those ridiculous bows in Oz. I was cold, I was laughed at by my family, and what’s worse, my own companion,Tessie, (more on her later) didn’t even recognize me and I was subjected to weeks of unnecessary hissing. Curse you, evil women with the clips. You were an unlikable Edward Scissorhands, you know, like at the end of the movie when the whole town turned against him? Put that in your groom-pipe and smoke it.
Sincerely,
HISSSSSSSSSSS
Dear Underneath Greg and Mery’s Bed,
Thank you for being my refuge after said trip to the cat groomer. Or anytime I was relatively pissed off.
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Lobo,
Lobster, you were a great big oaf of a dog that may have ruled the house had I not been around. As big as you were, you were constantly gentle and happy, and impossible for me to hate, even though I tried. Before you passed in 2004, I enjoyed many days of crawling over you face (when I could’ve easily gone around it), mistaking your tail for my beloved string, and occasionally (and I do mean OCCASIONALLY) being a warm body to snuggle up to when I was cold. You were my Pinky to my Brain, my Ozzy to my Harriet, my Biden to my Obama. You were lovable and obidient to me and the family. I guess I’ll see you on the other side.
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Tessie,
Um, thank you? I guess? A feline companion brought in to substitute the run away of The Lobster in 1997, (only to have him return in 2000, giving the Tafel’s a minor Animal Kingdom in their own home. Oh Lobo), I, at first, hated you because the cute gray kitten you were rivaled my loveableness. I thought you were merely brought in to steal my adorable thunder, but in the end you became a pretty Fat Cat, and I mean that both literally and figuratively. And boy were you dumb. Once all those things came into play, I took you in as my best friend (or wife according to a marriage ceremony conducted by a ten year old Alison and witnessed by rows of Barbie dolls). I knew you were never my competition, and I have to say it was a joy getting into wrestling matches and licking wars with you. Your big warm butt didn’t hurt, as it served as my blanket so many times (mostly because you never realized you were sitting on me). Thank you for being the voice of reason when we were out of food. It was nice knowing your chronic bitching would benefit me in giving me a Fancy Feast. And even though you were not the brightest bulb, it was nice knowing that you were nice. Tessie, you don’t have a mean bone in your body and you loved attention just as much as me. We were a good team, you and I. I think, especially in the later years with all three kids gone, we provided love and affection to the empty nest parents. I loved how the four of us would squeeze into the Tafel’s full-sized bed every night, as if it was humanly possible to be comfortable, and doze into a four note chord snore. Most of all, I loved how you loved me, and you will no doubt be sad once I am gone. (Or really really confused. I don’t know, while my stare seemed to be all knowing, yours always seemed just…blank). My solace is that once I am gone you will continue on your attention-seeking trend, perhaps providing just an ounce more love toward the Tafel’s in my absence. I love you. (Just don’t tell anyone).
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Glass of Water By Alison’s Bed,
Thank you for being a convenient place for me to get water, even if that meant knocking you over onto Alison while she was sleeping.
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Alarm Clocks,
I was always smarter than you, suck it. I knew right away that sitting on the top of you if I was trapped in a bedroom and while strategically swatting my paws, I would eventually turn you on and turn you up. It may have been jarring to those who heard, but hey, at least I got their attention before I had an accident on the floor.
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Boxes and Heat Vents,
You were awesome to sit on.
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Tafels,
Thank you for loving me. I loved you too.
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Cat Community,
I am sorry I was not more like you. I just didn’t have it in me to be a smartass or a diva. I didn’t piss on shoes just because I was mad (well, okay, I did piss on Brian’s Soccer Bag a few times, but to be fair it DID smell like a litter box). I didn’t claw and hiss because I was skiddish. I was never the skiddish type, really. Honestly my only cat vice was that when I ran outside I didn’t ever want to come back in. I knew when it was time to sit on a lap and when it was time to leave people alone. I could sense when I was needed, as so many cats fail to do. I caught mice, but not to eat, just to show I could. I ate lightly, puked only if I had to (not because I wanted to), and liked my privacy in the litter box. I took pride in being that cat that even non-cat-people liked. I was smarter than most felines, and if I could speak English, I would’ve. I think I lasted as long as I did in my 20 year cat life because I was, simply put, easy going and relaxed. I was happy to be loved, and loved being happy. I cared for my family, and the people around me, wholly. So sorry for not liking scratching posts and catnip. I guess I was just never that kind of cat.
Sincerely,
Fred
Dear Curiosity,
Thanks for letting my old age kill me instead.
Sincerely,
Fred
– One L
“Drop Dead Fred Jokes are not tolerated.” – Fred the cat
In the Sun with Alison 