As a child in South Jersey, we routinely had three cats - Puff, Muffin, and Inky at the time. I was the only person Inky would even come to & sit with, he despised everyone else in the house. Inky was so dedicated to me, that it was hard to give him up.
In 1985 (we think, hindsight tells me it was 1986 or '87 at times), my brother & I found this little furbag while playing kickball in our backyard. He was the tinyest thing, maybe 2-3 months old, but cute as hell. My parents wouldn't allow us to have a 4th cat, so I had to give up Inky (owing to the fact that Muffin was a 'generous' hunter & Puff was just friggin' old). There's no way this newfound hairball was going to the pound. Matter of fact, he's so special that he became part of the family over time. We named him "Sasserfras", a tribute to the longhair kitten we lost to a car accident when I was much younger. We were told in time that he was a Maine Coon, but some people have even suggested that he's also Russian Siberian. Both cats are known for their long hair & pleasant, almost human personalities. Early on, he had a urinary problem that many male cats are prone to, and my folks spent the dough to have it taken care of. He was "Mr. Cat" in the Augatis house, the name my father had addressed him by for years.
He hated rides, it was a chore even taking him to the vet. It was an even bigger experience moving him to New York in 1991, he had to be sedated for the 300-mile trip. However, this new world gave him a place to grow old, even though he was a house cat. Chipmunks, squirrels, various types of birds, all that fun shit. When we first moved to NY, my mother had a bay window installed to replace the flat one. That became the "$1,000 cat seat", a term appropriated by my father when Sass decided it was somewhere to sleep. One thing I'll never forget was this uncanny characteristic of chattering at the yardly intruders from his new throne. It was quite comical, so much so that it's the kind of thing I regret never getting on video. As a "child", he had a healthy diet of Cheetos & potato chips. Seriously, he ate like a normal cat, but he would lick a cheese doodle until it was nothing more than a flavorless wafer.
During the past few years, unfortunately, Sass developed a thyroid problem which took weight from him en masse. He got slimmer & skinnier, but we couldn't put him down, since he never appeared to be suffering. My mother began to treat him with medication for the thyroid condition. Dad always said faithfully, "7am and 7pm", as that is when he was to be given the treatment. However, by mid-2006, his hearing had gone completely, and his eyesight wasn't far behind. My parents told tales of yelping in the middle of the night, because it seemed he didn't understand why no one was around (disorientation or sorts?). I witnessed this behavior myself, but I'll never know what it really meant. To make things worse, his hips started going over the past two months, and I knew his time was near.
This cat meant so much to all of us: My family, myself, and even our neighbors. The Stannard's, who lived across the street, would come over & feed him while we were vacationing or out of town (usually during the holidays). Ever since living in Pennsylvania, I only got to see him 3-4 times each year. While I've lived away from him since 1999, my folks did an excellent job in caring for him. When I'd visit, he'd spot me from the bay window the very minute I walked up the driveway, and fondly greeted me at the door.
We had Sasserfras put to sleep on the morning of April 18, 2007. I can't expect people to understand it, despite losing my job only 8 months ago, but this was one of the hardest days in my life thus far. It was like pulling the plug on my own child. It's as though something inside me is missing completely. Just last night, my mother & I watched him bumble downstairs, in spite of his ailments. His little pink tongue poked out of his mouth as he looked at me one last time, and it was over. I licked his forehead, and pulled the towel over him so Dr. Myers could take him away. So very little in my life do I cry, I was a water works this morning. I can't ever imagine having another pet like him, he was more than "just another cat", he was family...our own "man's best friend" (no dogs for me, thanks).
Gram, Pop, & Dad (that's me) all love you & miss you, Mr. Cat. R.I.P. kid.
(We always made the assumption that he was born around April 15, 1985, and thus he'd have just turned 22 (human) years old last Sunday.)
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