A Year of Rascal

 

Sept 13, 2020 (top) and today (bottom)

I've told the story before. My mother died on Sept. 4, 2021, and, that night, I met a cat named Binx. He seemed friendly but also seemed like he wanted my dinner.

"Want him?" Eric asked me.

I looked up.

"I'm serious," he added.

Obviously, no decisions on cats or anything else were being made that night. There was a funeral to plan and other real-life things.

Sept. 13, 2020

Still, the offer played on my mind.

Eric was serious. Meaghan was fine with it also.

I had dinner with my nieces and Sean the night before the funeral and brought it up.

The reaction was universal. Everyone said I should bring the cat home.

Susan agreed. Everyone was concerned about me being alone -- especially when Sean was gone.

Of course, I was pragmatic. Chico had only been gone two months and it was nice to not have to change litter boxes and make sure there was food in the house and the worry of taking care of a cat and what if I move and if if if if if if...

Nobody was phased. The belief was it would all work out.

Sean, of course, was thrilled with the idea. 

So I stayed on top of it. I had to go back to Bridgeport on Sun, Sept 13 for a Little League baseball game. Eric and Meaghan lived a few minutes from the field.

Binx jumped up on the couch and visited. He didn't seem quite as friendly as he did nine days earlier but, then again, I know I was nervous about bringing him home. Still, with Eric's help, Binx and I walked down to the car and we were off.

He cried, basically, most of the way home. Oh, he stepped out of the cat carrier and walked around the car a bit but, essentially, he wasn't happy at all with what was going on.

We made it home and he took off to hide as soon as I got him out of the carrier. The cat -- who we knew we were going to rename -- was finding anyplace he could hide. Sean and I tried to make him comfortable but nothing was working so we decided to just let him hide.

Hiding under the deak

Sunday turned to Monday. He found a place under a desk where we couldn't get to him. He wouldn't come out.

I'd leave food for him. Nothing or he snuck out to eat a little then retreated.

It was more of the same on Tuesday. I worried about him but knew we were sort of on his time.

By the end of Wednesday, he seemed ready to come out for good. Once again, I used food to coax him and, this time, it worked.

Our experience had finally begun for real.

The last thing was the name. Somehow, "Rascal" popped into my head, partially because of his behavior and partially because of the Renegades (of course). But his meow was more of a squeak and, as such, he also became Squeaky.

Today -- one year after joining us

Or Destructocat. Or The Beast. Or Walter (from the Chevrolet commercial).

He became my constant companion. He'll follow me around. He'll sleep with me. He'll sit in the same room.

There were growing pains also. There were times when he'd wake me up for food or dig at something or do some other kind of destructive/bizarre behavior.

There would be moments when I'd say, mockingly, "I had to get a cat." He nearly destroyed my office last Thanksgiving, sending electronics and tables tumbling as he jumped off a table. Of course, there are those moments when he randomly attacks my feet in bed because, apparently, they're moving and he thinks it's time to play.

And there's plenty of fighting. But there's also plenty of playing.

I'm grateful for him. I'm grateful for Eric encouraging it and honored to remember Eric, gone since March.

I'm grateful to Meaghan who not only allowed us to take him home but told us to not hesitate about renaming him.

I'm grateful to Susan, Steph, Laura Jean, and everyone else who said I needed this beast in my life.

And to Sean, who constantly asks for updates when he's not here.

One year ago today, this goofy black cat full of energy (when not sleeping) came into our lives.

It was the right move.

I'm glad he's here.

I had to get a cat.