The Legendary Boo Kitty

The story goes that one day Deb was in the mood to buy a fish, so she headed to the pet store. When she got there, she saw a sign that advertised a free kitten with the purchase of cat supplies. She hadn't thought of getting a cat; the only ones she had known were the feral ones that lived around the farm she grew up on. But she decided right there to get a cat.

She checked out the bin they had the kittens in, and there were a bunch of them acting cute, as if to say, "Pleeeeeease take us home." In the corner, by himself, was a mostly black cat trying to take a nap.

Deb looked at him. He opened his eyes, as if to say, "Can you believe how dumb those other cats are?"

She fell in love right there.

That was how she met the legendary Boo Kitty.

She took him home, and while most cats will hide somewhere for a few days after they get a new home, Boo took to his new surroundings immediately. He strutted around the place like he owned it. Later, he curled up on her shoulder, and they were never apart after that.

Somewhere along the line, a photographer with Cat Fancier magazine saw Boo at a vet's office and wanted him to be in a photo spread. Deb turned it down; she didn't want Boo to get a swelled head.

Deb told me several times after we got together that she would get rid of me before she got rid of the cat. I never doubted it.

Boo, she told me, was the reason she kept going when her life wasn't going so well. Whenever she thought of killing herself (considering she had depression, it's no surprise), she thought about Boo and realized he needed someone to take care of him.

Boo was diagnosed as diabetic when he was 6. Most cats only last a couple of years after a diagnosis, and most people won't go through the effort of keeping a diabetic cat alive. Deb wasn't most people. She gave that cat insulin shots every day for the next 12 years. To almost the end, whenever we took him to the vet, she'd get compliments on how healthy the cat was.

I never really cared for cats that much, and when Deb and I first met, I wasn't that taken with Boo. He was an old cat by then, about 14. Whenever I'd go to Deb's place, he'd look at me and then go to the next room. Sometimes he'd come sniffing around me, but if I tried to pet him, he'd back off.

When Deb and I were moving in together, I and some friends went to her place to move her furniture. The plan was for me to put Boo in his carrier and take him to the new place after we emptied it. That cat wouldn't come near me, and when I tried, he bared his teeth and swiped at me. That cat wasn't going anywhere with me. Finally I had Deb come over and do it.

Eventually, when the three of us were under the same roof, the cat started warming up to me. Maybe because I had stronger hands, but when he finally let me pet him, he started acting more like a pussycat with me. Whenever I started scratching his back, he started licking whatever was handy. The furniture, the carpet, my leg ... he licked it like it was a lollipop. Deb accused me of stealing her cat.

I pretended not to like the cat. I kept joking we were going to have to let him loose, like the lion on "Born Free." We'd turn him out one night and let him roam free, like the proud jungle beast he was meant to be. Deb didn't buy it.

Deb was diagnosed with cancer and scheduled to start chemo. The night before the first treatment, Boo started acting strangely. First he had a seizure, then he started running in a circle. We bundled him up and took him to an animal emergency clinic. About 2 in the morning, after running some tests, we were told he had had a stroke. There was no treatment. Boo might go on for a while, but we'd never know when he'd have another seizure. Deb knew she couldn't let him go through another seizure, so we decided to put him down.

It was the passing of a torch. Deb was now my responsibility, not his.

That was the only time I told that cat I loved him. I thanked him for taking care of Deb up until then, and I promised I would take care of her from then on.

Deb held Boo as they injected the drugs, and she held him as he died. We had him cremated and brought the ashes home later.

Before Deb died, we were talking one day about what we wanted to have happen if something happened to one of us. She told me she wanted to be buried with Boo. I asked her if she meant beside her. No, she told me. She wanted his ashes mixed with hers.

That's what I did. Of course, that means since I want my ashes mixed with hers, I'm going to be mixed up with that crazy cat again.

Somewhere, I know Deb gets a giggle out of that thought.