It’s hard to know where feline ends and human begins.  For seventeen years, Cleo has been a part of our family.  It will probably be another seventeen years, at least, before his loss won’t be a part of our daily lives.

When we adopted Cleo and Walden in 1984, they were just little babies (as you can see their size relative to a bottle of rum.)  As we looked at the litter of kittens, Cleo got up and approached Mary Jane.  He picked her.  Cleo came from the shelter with a pink collar, Walden with a blue collar.  At that age, it is nearly impossible to tell the sex of a kitten, so we relied on collar color.  Cleo was so-named because of his (her) dominant attitude.  Walden, being so meek, was given a nerdish name.  By the time we realized our error, they were responding to their names.  So Cleopatrick it was.

Their first home, outside the shelter, was at 1800 S Street.  It was a large townhouse with an open, skylit stairway.  As any guest of that time will remember, when you entered the house through the front door and looked-up, you were greeted by our family.

Cleo’s bowlegged condition has been attributed to a fall he once took from the third floor.

Before we left 1800 S Street, Cleo escaped the house.  Being the inner-city cat, he went out an open door to prowl the streets.  It was a nerve-wracking two days, but luckily a neighbor heard Cleo’s cries in the back alley and a few shakes of a can of Pounce enticed him from his hiding place and back into our arms.

While at S Street, Cleo once got caught in the hollow base of our dining room table (which necessitated its dismantling) and into a mattress of a closed sleep-sofa.  I’m not sure what message was being sent, but we left that house soon after.

Our small apartment on 16th Street provided Cleo with many amenities.  His favorite were the windows with large sills to sit in and watch the world go bye.  He would often sit in the window at a certain time in the afternoon, watching for the bus Mary Jane took home from work.  Heck of an eyesight – six stories and a 1/2 block away.  She could look up and see him waiting for her, greeting her at the door when she got off the elevator.

To say that Cleo was devoted to Mary Jane would be an understatement.  The two of them shared a bond that would be the envy of any friends.  At night, he would lay across her chest like a wrestler waiting for a three count on a pinned opponent.  We would say that if it weren’t for him, MJ would float away.  He had a special sense to know whenever MJ awoke from her sleep.  Even at three in the morning, if she couldn’t sleep and picked-up a book to read, Cleo would come from any corner of the house to share some quality time.  She would count on Cleo’s soft purring to lull herself back to sleep.

These last few months have been very tough on us.  As Cleo’s kidney condition worsens, his special characteristics have paled.  It’s very unsettling not to know how he truly feels, what he really wants.  We have tried to make it as comfortable as possible for him.  I only hope he knows we are trying our best.

It may sound a bit strange for us to be carrying-on so about a cat.  To us, he’s not a cat, not a pet.  He is a member of our family and brings our family many special gifts.  As I lay here tonight, next to him as he sleeps, I know that he has made me a better person and her ‘handsome boy’ has certainly given something to Mary Jane that no one else can, not even me.

Tomorrow we go to the vet’s office.  I hope part of the relief we provide him is the knowledge on his part of our concern, compassion, love and gratitude.

We will miss you son.

Please send your notes to mjcoolen @ pipeline.com
We will be at the beach the next few weeks.