Friday, September 3, 2010
Bogey Narro (2001-2010)
He came into our lives when we certainly didn't need any new animals. We were living in a two-bedroom apartment and already had a cat. We also were in the middle of building our house, which was its own headache.
When I was leaving the construction site one day, we found them. There was a black kitten, an orange one and a white one. They were curled up right on the side of the road -- I almost hit them with my car. Shayne was with me, and we went back to check on them. It was love at first meow.
The vet aged them at about two weeks old. Our neighbor at the apartment complex took the orange one, and we were left with Birdie and Bogey, named for my husband's love of golf. Their names fit perfectly as Birdie was never any trouble. Bogey, however, was trouble from the start.
When we moved into our house, he got in fights with the neighbors' cats, and he never learned to get along with our dog. While they didn't hate each other, they had an understanding. And until Bogey's dying breath, J.P. respected that Bogey was here first.
Bogey brought us many presents. There were garden moles, mice, rats and even squirrels. Several geckos and lizards lost the battle with Bogey. Just last week, when one thought he could outsmart Bogey in his feeble state, a gecko saw his final moments. We joke that a few weeks ago, he had 'roid rage (he was taking them to control his pain) and killed his last squirrel.
For the last four months, I watched my once 14-pound cat (16 at his heaviest and under nine when he died) struggle through cancer. And this morning, I had to make the decision I didn't want to make. My vets were wonderful; the staff was amazing. It was quiet and peaceful, and he hurts no more.
My first reaction was that I never want another animal again, but I thought about the joy he gave us. He was a hunter and fighter by night and a sweet, cuddly kitten by day. As I whispered in his ear when he was taking his last breath, I am thankful for him.
Thank you, Bogey. I hope my next kitten is half the everything you were and always will be.