Little Buddy

This post isn't about our two girls.  It's about our cat.  One of our first babies.  And it will probably be long because there's a lot to say about him - a lot that I don't want to forget so I'm starting to write it now, on the afternoon he died.

(If you're looking for your quick fix of cute girl pictures, scroll down.  There are a few, with the cat of course.)

Desmond.  June 1, 2001 - August 23, 1014.

He had a lot of nicknames.

Desmond Head.  Desmond Brain.  Brain.  Brain Head.  Desmond Fish.  Fish.  Fish Brain.  Poo-poo.  Poo-poo Hiney.  Poo-poo Hiney Head.  Poop.  Big Pile of Poop.  Shit Head (that one didn't last long).  Desmond Smell.  Smell.  Poop Smell.  Des-A-Mond (from our niece).  Desim (from Abby).  Best Friend.  Best Friend in the World.  Best Buddy.  Best Buddy in the World.  Bu-E (from Emma).  Little Man.  Little Buddy.

We were so lucky. Desmond picked us.

Desmond and his sister Molly are Oakies.  We adopted them in Oklahoma while I was in graduate school during the summer of 2001.  They were rescued by a cats-only veterinarian.  She had several kittens available when we arrived, but as soon as I saw Molly, all fluffy and gray with enormous ears, I said, "I want that one."  Molly would need a companion, of course, and we were contemplating bringing home another gray cat who was a little older.  But Desmond did the best song and dance ever to secure a place in our family.  He pranced back and forth and tried to engage Molly in play.  He picked us.  So we brought them home, two adorable teeny kittens from the same litter.

Got to love the grad school decor here.

Early days.

Desmond was the first to explore the house in Oklahoma.  Molly hid for a good day or so, but Brain was super adventurous.  Greg built little steps so the two could climb up into the litter box.  I remember Desmond using the litter box soon after we brought him home and I cried a little because I thought he was so smart.  Then he showed Molly what to do and she used it right after him.  Geniuses!

Both Desmond and Molly slept with me at night, which was a huge comfort while I was living alone, half-way across the country from my family.  I shouted "Deeeees-moooond, Mooooollyyyyyy, come here guys!" and they would sprint into the bedroom and do flying leaps onto the bed.  The first few nights they were with us, Greg was so afraid I would roll on top of them that he woke me up every 10 minutes, "Teener, watch out for Molly.  Watch out for Desmond!"

Best temperament ever. . .with one exception.

During my graduate school winter break all three of us flew home.  Both kittens handled the airport security check and the flight amazingly well.  They stayed at my feet in a soft-sided carrier and only meowed a couple of times.  At the end of the flight when the passenger next to me saw the carrier, she was shocked that there had been cats nearby during the entire flight.  Likewise, during the move home, Desmond and Molly were little angels lounging on the console of a Budget truck for two days.  Molly wasn't crazy about the hotel room, but Desmond was once again happy to explore his temporary surroundings.

Up until I moved home Desmond had been treated by a veterinarian who worked with just cats.  He loved going to that vet.  Never an issue.  Once back in NJ, we took both cats for their first appointment at an office where cats and dogs were treated.  The moment we walked in the door and, presumably, Desmond got a whiff of the office, he went ballistic and started attacking his sister inside their carrier.  Hissing, howling, scratching, biting.  We're talking a stone's throw away from spinning head and green puke.  Once we got him out of the carrier, it was nearly impossible to touch him.  He had to be put in a lucite box in order for the vet to administer his vaccines.  Greg and I were shocked and a little embarrassed.  We had THAT kid.  From this point on there was no more sharing a carrier and no more happy vet visits and no more being around other animals except for Molly.  Our Little Buddy.

Chief of Security.

Desmond locked in his role as chief of security while I lived in Oklahoma.  My rental house had a wee cricket. . .er. . .issue.  They were everywhere.  Desmond hunted, pounced and systematically dismembered cricket after cricket, leaving their legs on my bed as gifts.  The crickets tended to congregate in my bathtub so I brought in Desmond as my exterminator.  (Looking back, that was a cruel thing to do to the crickets, but I was young and had the heebie-jeebies, and had irrational fears because I was so far from home, so cricket cruelty was not on my radar.)

Tornadoes were another source of anxiety while living in the midwest.  I worried about them all the time.  Once, when our area was under a tornado warning and Greg was visiting, I packed up the kittens and insisted we all go to the basement of the zoology building on campus.  Greg and Desmond both seemed annoyed as we past so many people standing outside watching the purple sky and the amazing lightning show.  Molly seemed to understand my concerns a bit better.  At least, the kids got to explore the halls of the zoology building and the lab where I taught classes.  Desmond probably left a few cricket limbs as a warning for others not to mess with me.

Desmond's security duties continued in NJ.  He once stared at a very suspicious screw in the wall over our bed for a good five minutes straight without blinking.  While living in our second home, our next-door neighbors included a yippy dog named Frank.  Frank's yips were nails-on-chalkboard irritating.  Greg told Desmond to take care of Frank.  A couple days later Frank yipped while I was trying to sleep.  Greg let Desmond know we were disappointed.  Desmond dropped his head and walked out of the room.  We never heard from or saw Frank again.  

Desmond loved people.  
Desmond's body was squishy.  You know those squish pillows with the little white balls inside?  That was Desmond's body.  But covered in super soft fur.  And you could lay your head on his belly or pull him into your arms (The Mommy Tractor Beam) and he'd conform to you like memory foam.  After I had outpatient sinus surgery, Greg told  Desmond to stay in bed with me and not get up.  He didn't.  For 12 hours.  Didn't eat.  Didn't drink.  Didn't use the litter box.  Just stayed cuddled next to me.  Anytime I was feeling blue and rested on my bed hoping to be swallowed by a black hole, Desmond would jump up on the bed and snuggle in with me.  Man, I'm going to miss that.

Desmond was a total a people cat.  (Except for vets.  See above.)  He had no problem making friends.  He loved to be held, have his belly rubbed, cuddled, you name it.  The Upside Down Desmond Hug was a daily occurrence.  He wanted to hang out whenever there was company and had no inhibitions about crawling into an empty lap.  He even liked my father.  And, more surprising still, my father liked Desmond.  And my father is NOT a cat person.  Greg, Desmond, Molly and I lived temporarily with friends while waiting to close on our first home.  Desmond won over another not-cat person by being his awesome self and massaging her belly with the cat-kneading technique when she had cramps.  No joke.  She said she would only get a cat is she could have Desmond.  But he was off the table.  (She has since adopted a cat, but we're certain Desmond paved the way.)  Desmond was so gentle with Abby and Emma.  We tried to stay on top of them when they were around the cats and teach them to use a soft touch, but toddlers never don't always listen.  They pulled his tailed, picked him up, tried to pick him up, hit him on the head, etc.  To my knowledge, he never once hurt them.

 

Other Desmond Favorites

Whole wheat bread and graham crackers.  He liked to lick them.  Not chew them.  Just lick.

Crinkle balls and teeny tiny stuffed mice.

Water.  Go figure.  He would tap his water dish so the water would move and spill over a little before he'd drink.  He hung out on the side of the tub when Greg or I took shower.  He knocked over any glass of water he'd found.

Head-butting.  

Scratching the furniture.

Pawing at our faces early in the morning.  Why?  Because he could.

Doing physics.  You could see the calculations by the look in his eyes just before he would make a major jump.  Desmond was a high cat.  He loved being up high.

Doing physics and then jumping on Greg's shoulder and sitting there like a parrot.

Greg's white robe.  It's in tatters from him jumping on and climbing up it to reach Greg's shoulder.

Cleanliness.  He took several baths a day and was fastidious about keeping the litter box clean.  He would even go in after Molly used the box and clean up after her.

Concrete.  He rolled on concrete to scratch his back.

Sneaking out the house, or, at least, trying to sneak out of the house.  For anyone who's ever visited, you've heard us shout "Watch out for Desmond!" or "Watch the cat!" over and over again.

Sleeping on Greg's chest.

Sleeping in my arms.

After 13 years with our Fish Brain it's hard to imagine daily life without him. Desmond was our constant (Lost reference, anyone?).  He showed me unconditional love and allowed me to nurture him.  Watching Greg care for him and Molly locked in Greg's place as my Forever Guy.  Desmond gave us so much more than he ever asked for in return.

We buried him in our backyard and have plans to plant a tree over him so the molecules that once made up Desmond will be part of new life.  We will always love and remember him.  And we will always wonder what really happened to Frank.  

Rest easy, Desmond.  Desmond Head.  Desmond Brain.  Brain.  Brain Head.  Desmond Fish.  Fish.  Fish Brain.  Poo-poo.  Poo-poo Hiney.  Poo-poo Hiney Head.  Poop.  Big Pile of Poop.  Shit Head.  Desmond Smell.  Smell.  Poop Smell.  Des-A-Mond.  Desim.  Best Friend.  Best Friend in the World.  Best Buddy.  Best Buddy in the World.  Bu-E.  Little Man.  

Little Buddy.