When Beloved and I moved in together, way back in 1995, he came with baggage in the form of two slightly neurotic cats. The skittish tabby was Tiny (in name only) and the fierce, ill-tempered black one was Ben.
Ben and Tiny had been with Beloved for a couple of years before I came along and bumped them down the totem pole of Beloved’s affections. I still remember one of the first times I visited, having Ben stand on my lap and butt his head against me as I sat next to Beloved on the couch. “Awww, he likes me!” I said, having been forewarned of his tendency to hate everyone except Beloved. It was only after a few minutes that I realized he was not so much being affectionate as trying to shove me out of the way and away from Beloved. It was a moment that would come to define our relationship.
When we lived in a little two bedroom apartment perched in the attic of an old house in the Glebe, Ben would wake us up every single day between three and four in the morning, yowling for breakfast. You didn’t walk past Ben too quickly, or he would try to sink his teeth into your achilles heel on the way by. My friends took great joy in baiting him, because it didn’t take much to turn him into a hissing, spitting ball of angry black fur.
That’s why when Beloved and I got married and moved into a town house and I could finally get the dog I had been dreaming of for years, I didn’t have a lot of problem relegating the cats to the finished basement family room / office when the dog and the cats proved incompatible. We tried over the years to integrate them, but Ben’s fierceness coupled with the fact that we were enjoying not being yowled awake hours before the first sparrow’s chirp eased our guilt about how this integration never seemed to work out. And so the cats dropped another notch down the totem pole.
And within a couple of years after Katie the golden-retriever/shepherd mix arrived, the boys followed… dropping the hapless cats another couple of notches down the family totem pole. I bet you didn’t know totem poles even had basements.
The cats have always been well-cared for, and had each other for company in the ‘cat cave’, as we came to call the basement. One Christmas we returned from a brief visit with my folks in London to find Ben lethargic and obviously sick, with mucus around his anus. It was New Years Eve, and the emergency appointment to the vet ended up costing us more than $700… to have the vet shave Ben’s ass, do a few tests, and tell us that his illness was likely gastrointestinal upset as a result of a new food we were trying.
Both cats were fat, Ben especially. At his largest, he was 18 lbs. That’s why when he started dropping weight in the last year, we knew something was up. Then a few months ago, he started licking bare patches into his fur. But he was still feisty and spry, and although we suspected his days were numbered, as long as he seemed content (by Ben’s standards, anyway), so were we.
That changed yesterday. It was obvious he was suddenly in pain. His feet slid out from under him and he just lay on the floor before getting up. Beloved brought him to the vet, who could without invasive testing diagnose more than one ailment, which probably still did not account for his pain and obvious lethargy. We could do more tests, we could try a pill-a-day for the rest of his life (those of you who own angry cats can imagine how much fun this would be for the cat, let alone the person trying to do it), but none of these things would be guaranteed to make an improvement. He was fifteen years old. It was time to let him go.
He wasn’t my cat, despite the fact that we lived together for more than ten years. He was, to the end, Beloved’s cat, and it’s for Beloved that my heart aches.
As I said, the cats lived in the basement, and while Beloved or I were often downstairs (the computer was down there, and Beloved’s office) the boys only came down occassionally, so much so that they often confused which cat was Ben and which was Tiny. When Beloved came home from the vet without Ben, we decided to leave the door open and let Tiny join us upstairs if he so chose. He can fit through the baby gate to the basement stairs while the dog cannot, and he spent much of yesterday on the stairs, not courageous enough to come all the way up.
Yesterday, Tristan was aware that Beloved had taken Ben to the vet, but we had been evasive on exactly what had happened. We said that Ben wasn’t coming back, but Tristan didn’t seem overly concerned. He was, however, tickled at the idea of Tiny coming upstairs and spent quite a while near the stairs, coaxing him up. You can imagine why Tiny was reluctant, with Tristan, Simon and Katie as a welcoming committee on the far side of the gate!
This morning, we had all just tumbled out of bed and into the living room when Tristan asked when Ben was coming home. The need for honesty caught up with me, and I told him, “Ben died, honey. He died.” To my surprise and regret, Tristan began to cry. I hadn’t expected him to grasp the concept so quickly, or with such empathy. He cried for a few minutes, gentle tears running down his cheeks, while Beloved and I tried with choked voices to combine platitudes with honesty to reassure him.
The short attention-span of the preschooler is sometimes a gift, and Tristan was soon more interested in coaxing Tiny upstairs than in mourning Ben. A few times, he asked a version of “when is Ben coming back”, and one more time he cried when he grasped the finality of it. I found myself invoking God, and heaven, because they are comforting ideas and at least make the concept of death manageable and bearable, especially for a four-year-old.
Good-bye, Ben. I promise to take good care of our Beloved for you.
I think it’s good you were honest with Tristan. And I bet this was hardest on your husband since he knew the Ben the longest. Extra hugs for him today!
Sympathies to your family and especially your Beloved.
I had a few tears in my eyes and Jaimie asked why I was crying so I began to read your blog out loud and began to cry so much I couldn’t finish. Please tell Mark how sorry we are.
Tears…for Ben, for Beloved, for Tristan, for Tiny. I agree with Jo(e) on the honesty thing. Actually, a very nice post about it all.
xoxo
Wow, I don’t even like cats and you had me in tears. Very well written Dani. What a difficult conversation to have with Tristan. It sounds as though you handled it beautifully.
We once told our Tristan that his grandpa’s dog had gone to Palm Springs. He was only two, we knew he wouldn’t understand the concept of death yet, and the only other place he knew of was Palm Springs. Would you believe, two years later he is still asking the logistics of how a Bichon Frisé got to Palm Springs? We thought he might remember for all of a week. I think he actually knows now, but I too, am going to have to choke down my own personal beliefs and discuss the concept of heaven.
Thinking of you all today…
I am sorry for the loss of Ben. I remember as a little kid in fifth grade when our dog died that it was the first time I ever saw my dad cry. My condolences to Beloved, and to Tiny, and well, everyone.
Do you want Boo Boo?
And I am sniffling too.
Oh damn, now you all have me with tears in my eyes, and I wasn’t overly fond of the damn animal in the first place.
And Marla? No. Nice try, though.
Losing a family pet – even one you’re not overly fond of – is a very sad thing. My condolences to beloved, you and your boys. I hope Tiny makes the transition to the upstairs world, as he will be very lonely in the cat cave without his companion…
Sorry to hear of Ben’s passing. It always hard to loose a family member – even the furry ones.
I’m sorry. I hope Beloved is ok.
I can only imagine how Beloved feels. Although I am more a dog person than a cat one, losing a pet is always hard. I hope Tristan grasps the loss well over the next little bit.
Hugs
Sometimes it’s very hard to be the parent. And to think when I was growing up, I thought my parents knew how to handle everything. I still feel that way about my Dad a lot of the time, actually.
Hugs,
Ann
Give B a hug for me. I knew hours of joy tormenting Ben. I also know how much hem enat to B.
Sorry about that, Dani. I try not to get attached to the pets that we get for the kids (and there have been quite a few) but somehow it never works. When Coco (the girls’ chocolate lab) died a couple of years ago, I think it was harder on me than them. Now we have cats AND another dog, so here we go again.
Give Tristan a kiss from La.
Thank you, friends. From me, and from Beloved. Both of us have been moved by your kind words.
I do have another post all ready to go for today, but blogger is on the fritz. At least I kept a back up copy this time. There is a post pending for today…
Hugs to you all, Dani.
that is so sad 🙁 i’m so sorry…
sniff…sniff…sorry to hear the sad news about Ben.
Jesus Christ, how could you keep your two cats in the basement all the time? That sounds just awful, Dani. It also sounds like you’re more of a dog person. Fair enough, so am I, but my heart broke when I read about the totem pole at your house, and how the cats slipped down notch after notch after the dog arrived, and then your two sons. My God, it hurts my heart to think that two living things were not a part of your family and were relegated to the basement. And I know your office and computers were down there, but still it sounds wrong to me.
It sounds like you’ve got it all perfectly rationalized, but I have to say that it sounds like an awful life for an animal. And I know from reading your blog how spirited your boys are, so I don’t think you kept the cats down there due to safety concerns.
I am so sad for your DH that he has lost his cat, but I am not sorry that a cat who’s resided in the basement of a house for the last, what, 6, 7 years is in a happier place.
A frequent reader and fellow IVFer,
Katie
Man. Katie. You sure know how to kick a gal when she’s down. I think it would have been kinder to keep your comment to yourself.
Having met Dani in person I can assure you that the cats were loved and well-cared for. When children come into a household it’s perfectly normal that pets lose first priority.
But it doesn’t mean they’re not loved.
Thanks for the support one and all. Ben was a large part of my life and I miss him dearly.
I would ask though “Katie” that if you can’t make a nice comment then please don’t comment. This time is hard enough without that sort of negative energy. I loved Ben very much. I was the only person that he trusted and I don’t believe that I ever betrayed that trust. He would have been miserable living with the dog and kids. I always tried to create a safe, warm and comfortable place for him to live. Please don’t pass judgement on a situation that you know nothing about.
Thanks again to all of you who have shared your love and support. The hug is received UberGeek. Thanks.
Katie….relax. The pet was cared for, kept warm, fed, healthy, how do you know he wasn’t happy? I woudl tend to agree with you if they ahd deserted the poor animal outside and left to fend for itself, but sheesh…not the case at all. Not at all.
Do you think, anonymous Katie who leaves no contact information, that we are sisters because of the shared experience of IVF? Because you are mistaken. The women I choose to be my sisters are not cruel, would not choose to leave a comment whose only purpose could be to inflict pain on an already painful day.
At first, I was furious. How dare you judge me, when I’ve spent three days replenishing kleenex and mopping up tears?
Now, I’m just sick to my stomach to knowing that my husband has read your comment. I agonized about whether to delete it or leave it stand, because I promised myself I would never delete a comment made in good faith.
I made the wrong choice – I should have deleted your comment.
Nancy, Andrea – thanks, my friends. Thanks.
Sorry to hear it.
Hit enter to early 🙁
Sorry to hear about your loss Beloved. I remember when Cat Stevens died. I sobbed so long and so hard I though my heart would break. Now with other priorities (err…totem poles so to speak) I have animals in a different perspective. But the loss of a loved one still hurts.
Keep in mind that people who judge have often not walked in your shoes. Parents of one child cannot understand the obligations of those with more. My sister (a vet tech) cannot understand how I can miss giving my cat the pill he has to take every day. Take it as someone simply judging before understanding your priorities and wish on them: two working parents, two children, a dog and two cats. Then sit back and watch how they “cope”.
Dani, I am not anonymous at all! I just don’t have a homepage, and I’m not comfortable posting my e-mail address on the internet. I’m actually a long time member at IVFC, and I’ve “known” your posts for years. I remember when you were just about to have Tristan and your basement flooded, when you told everyone about your freebie pregnancy with Simon, and many other things. I read your blog every once in a while and usually enjoy it. I wanted you to know this b/c I’m not some anonymous troll who’s wandered in here off the internet and decided to mess with you in an apparent time of grief.
I’m an IVF vet (I don’t consider you a sister, though, and I’m not sure where that came from), now mom of two, DH and I work full time, and I also have a dog. And I’m not some crazy animal rights activist either. I’m just a person who read your post and had an absolutely horrible feeling about your two cats not being a part of your family and living permanently in the basement.
And I’m not sorry for my comments, and I’m not about to take them back.
Look, you obviously have a lot of support here, which is fantastic – hey, it’s your blog. But, like you I’m guessing, I’m not the type of person to NOT say something when a situation is presented to me that just seems wrong. I was horrified by your post, and I felt compelled to comment. I did read a lot of rationalizations in your post, and to be honest, it even ticked me off that you mentioned that it cost $700.00 to “shave Ben’s ass.” Tough bananas. That’s what animal medical care costs, and that is part and parcel of animal ownership.
You can respond to this, delete it all, whatever you need to do, but I wanted you to know that my previous comments, though harshly worded, were how I truly felt, and I don’t regret them.
Having said that, I hope you don’t let my feelings send you into a tailspin of despair, either. I bet this is the first negative comment you’ve ever gotten. Sorry to be the one who had to do it, but I felt compelled to speak up.
PS – What’s going to happen to Tiny now that he doesn’t have “company” in the basement?
Katie
Katie – whatever.
If you’re that cold and cruel of a person that you can’t see how dumping your judgemental attitude all over somebody’s grief is inexcuseable, then I suggest you simply move along and curdle somebody else’s milk.
Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re not the first person to disagree with me, or even to criticize me. And if you had criticized my choice to use chemicals to treat my lawn, or breastfeed my son, or any of the other things I write about and invite discussion about every day, I would welcome your opinions and thoughts – as long as you offered them respectfully. But you crossed a line in your first comment, and I think you just want to stir up trouble, and frankly I’m not interested in expending any more energy on you if that’s the game you’re playing.
The people who commented in my defense are in fact friends of mine in real life, and if they have no criticism of how those cats were taken care of, who do you think you are to judge us? And, quite frankly, whose opinion do you think I value more?
And as for Tiny? He’ll be delicious with a hickory marinade and a side of beans.
Dani and Beloved
I sense so much defensiveness on this issue that I have to believe that you know in your heart that it’s wrong to keep two domesticated animals separate from your family and down in the basement.
Here’s the reality: You didn’t just put the cats in your basement because they liked it down there. YOU liked them down there. YOU didn’t like getting woken up by the cat. YOU didn’t work hard enough to integrate them into your family. You said it yourself – not me. YOU said your friends liked to taunt poor Ben b/c he’d turn into a hissing ball of fury. These are all the things that you actually said in your “requiem for a beloved cat that it sounds like you didn’t really like in the first place.”
Do I expect you to acknowledge my horror and integrate the other cat into your life? No, I don’t. But I bet I’ve made you think. Next time you go down to change the litter or refill the kibble, I hope my comments stick in your mind. Maybe your real life friends agree with how you’ve treated them, but I simply don’t. There’s nothing you or anyone else can say that will convince me that it’s OK for two living things to stay in a basement 24 hours a day. Nothing. It IS cruel, no matter how much you rationalize it.
Katie
Yoo hoo, Katie – SHUT UP already!!!
Hey Katie, get this…I have a cat. She is mean. I kept my twin sons’ bedroom door CLOSED every time they slept in there from the first day home from the hospital till just very recently (they are almost 4) in fear of the cat smothering, or hurting them; or even just filling their nostrils with that annoying cat hair. In fact, we used one of those plastic door knob thingies on the inside of their door, that pretty much means we locked them IN their room. All because of cat.
I am almost afraid to ask, but how do you view pet owners who keep their dogs outside? in a kennel? You do know that is also most acceptable and LEGAL pet owner behaviour. Just as Dani has decided to care for her pets, in a most acceptable and legal manner.
This is fun, for me at least. Just too bad at the expense of a dear friend of mine.
Oh, thanks for asking. I’m not OK with people who keep their dogs outside for long periods of time – again, cruel, and I am totally fine with those who kennel train their dogs or crate train them.
I don’t like or understand pet owners that think that because their pets are fed and have a roof over their heads that they’ve done everything they can for their animals. Cats and dogs are domesticated animals, and every pet deserves the chance to be integrated into its family. Of course, it doesn’t always work, and some cats have snarky demeanours, but in Dani’s case, I fully believe that they didn’t even come close to trying hard enough. I really believe that.
Katie
Katie,
These are the last moments I wasting on you. You really can keep your comments to yourself and go stick your very rude nose into someone else’s postings.
I have done nothing but love, care and look out for my cats since the day I’ve brought them home. I have brought them with me where ever I have relocated, I have taken them to the vet and paid hundreds of dollars in bills when I myself was eating left over pasta for a week because I couldn’t pay my rent. It was me that loved and defended Ben when everyone was telling me he was savage and nuts.
Dani may not have seen eye to eye with Ben all the time but he was one of my best friends and this is one of the hardest things I had to do in my life.
All of this has taken a lot out of me and all of my friends have commented here to give us support during this very hard time. It really doesn’t help having to pick through CRAP from a petty person who can’t get the hint to SHUT UP and GO AWAY.
You have accomplished what you intended, you have TICKED ME OFF. I hope that you are proud of yourself.
As an owner of two cats (well really the cats own US 🙂 ), I would like to say I’m sorry for your loss.
Wish I could give you some ear plugs or blinders. At least you know that you have many people who understand your sadness. Hugs.
roxanne
Dani and Dani’s hub — I just wanted to say that I linked to you via the usual suspects (ie, PS and the pixies) and I wanted to offer you my condolences on the loss of your family member.
Losing a pet who is more than “just a pet” is always hard. It’s made more so when you pour out your grief and get a flamewar on top of it.
I hope you can find a way to celebrate your friend’s life, and remember the good he bright to you, instead of letting the comments of an insensitive person be the last thing you remember about him. He may be gone from your home, but never from your hearts.
What KLee said.
Big hugs to you both.