Mr. Cash and I have always had somewhat of an awkward relationship. I've never been a real cat person, and when we got married I set a rule that Mr. Cash could not come into our bedroom. I don't remember how I reinforced that edict, but I can tell you that when our relationship thawed a little bit he could come in.
We've had our setbacks though. Sherry would drape him over her shoulder and he would swim with his paws and purr. As our cold war thawed, one day I picked him up and laid him over my shoulder. We had not yet ratified our existence as buddies, and he quickly dug his claws into my back. I should have relaxed my grip and he would have jumped off, but I held him tightly and pulled him up my back as his claws gouged furrows in my lats. He stuck a bit on my should blade and I gave a mighty tug, and as I yanked him off of me his flailing claws found purchase on my earlobe and a fine spray of blood hit the wall. That set us back about two years.
There were the times though when I would tolerate him. The little guy loved to sleep on my chest. He would purr like a fine tuned engine.
And so the years went by, relational advances and setbacks abounding. Sherry would have him shaved in the summer like a little lion. I would feign shock, and mention that she had removed the part of him that made him a manly cat, and now he looks like a cross dressed poodle! But it was kind of fun.
My favorite memory of him was how he loved the rings from the lid on a plastic milk jug. He would play with them and bat them all over the kitchen linoleum floor, sliding around like a blind baseball player trying to slide into home.
Sherry called me from work today and asked if I would take him in for his departure. I knew I would have to do it, she loved him so much she would be an emotional wreck if she had to do it. He was sleeping on the floor, and tears filled my eyes as I picked him up and put him in a box for his final trip. I became emotional myself, and cried as I drove him to the vet.
Once in the examination room, he meowed and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. It reminded me of when we bought our home and the first time we brought him in. He ran from window to window, looking outside. The vet described the procedure, and by now I was sobbing as he administered the sedative. It acted faster than I wanted it to, I thought I would have more time to pet him. The vet gave him the final shot, and it only took moments for his little heart to stop beating. I held him for a while and petted him, then gently covered him with a towel and said my final goodbyes.
Sherry would talk to him and refer to me in third person as his daddy. I always protested, and reminded her that it's OK to be Kadie's daddy (our dog Kadie), but with Mr. Cash I am the master. Today, as I held his little body - I was his daddy.
