Eight Lives

          Karen was alone in her room doing her homework with the door open. I heard her scream out, “Mom, come here quick!”

            I dropped everything I was doing and ran to her room. I quickly saw what had caused the excitement in her voice. As Karen lay on her bed doing her homework, the mother cat had found herself a place on the bed as well- a safe place to have her kittens. Before our eyes, we watched her give birth. When she washed her new-born kittens, it was obvious that one was still-born. But before us were three very much alive kittens.

          In the days to follow, each of my children chose their own kitten. It was the first litter born to our family. The children were thrilled. There were two male and one female cats of domestic tabby breed.

          Kevin chose the solid black female and named her T.C. Karen chose the short-haired yellow male and named him Tiger. Teresa chose the long-haired yellow male and named him Peanut Butter.

          As soon as I could, I got the mother cat spayed. There were to be no more kittens. Shortly after this was done, the mother cat went away and we never saw her again. Behind, though, she had left us her three kittens.

           As the kittens grew, T.C. was spayed. I kept putting off getting the two males neutered. The three cats, not kittens anymore, were allowed to be both indoor and outdoor cats. T.C. would never venture beyond our yard, whereas the two male cats went anywhere. T.C. was not affectionate. She would not allow the children to hold her, but the two male cats were very much cuddly. When home, they were constantly in the arms of the children. They even slept with them.  Peanut Butter, though, was the far better of the two. One day, however, he did not come home. Teresa took it hard. She was forever calling for him. As time passed, she gradually placed her attention towards Tiger. Kevin, too, began to place his attention towards Tiger. It took no time until all three children claimed Tiger as theirs.

          The children all grew up and the two girls left home. Kevin remained, but as his interests changed, Tiger became my responsibility. I live in a subdivision where there is not much traffic.  Yet, there is still enough traffic that requires one to stop and check both ways before crossing the street. I was always amused as I watched Tiger appear between the same two houses across the street on his usual journey home. As he came to the curve, he’d stop to check both ways before crossing. This was his always familiar place of sighting when someone went looking for him. A morning schedule of feeding Tiger before I left for work had me calling for him. Like clockwork, I would spot him between the two houses. And across the street he came to be fed. I always seemed to be in a hurry to leave for work, so I got to where I fed him outside instead of letting him inside.

It happened that I was on vacation one week. I was sleeping late and had not fed Tiger at his usual time. But it did not stop Tiger from coming home.

          I had fallen sleep on the couch watching television the night before. I awoke to a sudden scream from my son who slept upstairs. “They got Tiger!”

          Down the steps, my son came running. He threw open the door and ran outside. I ran after him. I saw five dogs scatter. An old Buick Regal was parked in the front yard awaiting a transmission repair. Tiger had managed to get away from the attacking dogs and crawl underneath. Kevin was now pulling him out. The car had been low enough in its body to protect the cat.

          “He’s not dead!” Kevin managed to get the words out as he cried. “What do we do?”

          It was still very early and our regular veterinary office kept only day hours. We called anyway and their answering machine mentioned a number available for emergencies. I placed the call and spoke to someone who gave me directions on where to bring Tiger.

          We found a doctor waiting on us upon our arrival. He instructed us to bring Tiger into an examining room. He was laid on a table. As Kevin held his hands on Tiger in assistance, the doctor administered necessary care. He informed us that it was just to stabilize him. We were to take him to our regular veterinary office as soon as they opened at 7 A.M.

          “Is Tiger going to make it?” We asked.

          The doctor never gave us a yes or no answer. Instead, I remember his words. “He’s already used up eight of his nine lives.”

          We were at our regular veterinary office at 7 A.M. They took Tiger in right away.

          The diagnosis was surgery to repair the dog’s teeth marks made in Tiger’s intestine. We gave the okay to do whatever necessary to save him. The expense was never an issue.

          During surgery, his intestine was repaired and a kidney was removed. Tiger had sustained a broken back and a broken right leg. We tried to save the leg. But another surgery would come later as it would require amputation. He was also neutered. If Tiger lived, he would be an indoor cat. He would never be able to make it on the outside again.

          The days to follow were like visiting a human in the hospital. As Tiger received his regular visits from Kevin, the staff laughed as a motionless cat suddenly became so alive. Daily, I would sit in the waiting room as Kevin went back. But when stories began to come up front about their love for each other, I had to go see for myself. On the outside of a cage I saw the name Tiger. A sign beneath it read,” Attacked by dogs.” And inside, there lay Tiger. Once Kevin called his name, Tiger struggled to get up. The purring commenced and it was so loud. As Kevin began talking to him, Tiger did too in his own way. If not for his injuries, I found this sight all so amusing. The cat wanted to live. One could feel the love.

          Once home, Tiger faced a lengthy recovery. But each day, he got a little bit stronger. He soon adapted to having only three legs. As he became a definite inside cat, he became a definite member of the family.

The whole house now belongs to Tiger. Occasionally, we take him outside, but only if we are there to watch. If, during his brief time on the outside, a stray dog comes into sight, Tiger panics. The memory of the dog attack has stayed with him.

          Tiger is getting along in age. He is now fourteen. I shiver at the thought of Tiger one day being gone. I used to wonder how pet owners cared so much for their animals. I don’t wonder anymore. I know firsthand that a bond of love can exist between a pet and an owner. I frequently find myself saying to Kevin, “Tiger is mine, too!”

          My son replies, “We’re his, too!” 

Squeak and her kittens:  Tiger, Peanut Butter, and T.C.