Rocky

He came to us in late September last year. We had just taken in an older orange Tom cat that had been abandoned at the Lions Park. Alan had named that cat Ike in honor of the storm that was brewing in the Gulf of Mexico at the time. One day a few weeks after Ike joined our household, I walked out on the back deck to feed him breakfast. From the rose bushes I heard a quiet “mew.” It was so faint I had to stop and listen carefully to make sure I had heard correctly. After a few more mews, I started investigating. Sure enough, there was a very tiny grey and white kitten under the rose bushes. He was a little skittish, but I was able to pluck him out. The little guy was only about a month old. Not even old enough to have been weaned from his mother. He didn’t know how to clean himself or do any of the things that his mother would have taught him. How he ended up in our yard we’ll never know except that some angel knew that we were the right family for him. “Oh great,” I thought, “just what we need, another cat to take care of and a new baby;” I was due to deliver Bethany within a couple of months. When I was too big and awkward with the pregnancy to do much else, I’d sit outside on the deck or inside on frosty mornings in the nursery rocker and cuddle the little guy.

Ike was who taught the kitten how to be a cat. After a few weeks of kitten supplement sprinkled on canned food, Rocky was starting to look and act like any other healthy, playful kitten. Of course the boys especially adored him. It was hard not to since he was just so darn cute, and he stayed that way even when he wasn’t little anymore. Alan named him Rocky. We were taking a tremendous chance that this kitten was a boy. There was a time we thought we might have a Rockette. Rocky and Ike became good friends. As the weather turned colder, the two cats cuddle together for warmth. Alan built them an insulated cat igloo for the deck where every morning when they emerged their fur was toasty warm, no matter how cold it was outside. One day Ike didn’t come home. Rocky was visibly dejected, but Alan put a little heating pad in his igloo, and Rocky crawled in to start his life as our lone outside cat. Some weeks later Alan spotted Ike a few blocks away, and we assume that he had moved on to find another home where he could spend the winter months inside. Our yard was the only home Rocky ever knew. On cold winter days, he would nap in a carrier just inside our back door. No matter where Rocky was outside, when Alan called him he came running. In the rare moments when Alan wasn't in motion, you could find Rocky sitting where he could touch Alan, either with paw, tail, or in his lap. Alan has always had a special way with cats. That cat loved that man with a heart bigger than the one God gave him.

Rocky was also gentle with the boys. When Zac and Nathan were in the yard playing baseball, Rocky was the outfielder. I’ve never seen a cat shag balls. At Easter he showed the boys where all the eggs had been hidden, and when Zac practiced with his new fishing rod, Rocky was right there ready to go catch the big ones with him. Even with Bethany he was curious but gentle. When we would put her on the deck in her bouncy chair, he sat where he could keep an eye on her, and sometimes he would sniff her head. Sniffing heads, by the way, is how cats identify their family, whether it’s the people family or other cats.

A few weeks ago we decided to do the responsible thing and have him neutered and vaccinated. Try explaining to a 4 year old boy why you are having a pet castrated! Rocky spent several days in the garage after the event, which was probably good for the fledgling bird population. He had become an expert birder, even bring home full grown ones. I knew my newly planted shade garden was safe from rabbits because Rocky would catch them too, and I certainly didn’t have to worry about the boys finding a garter snake, because if it wiggled, hopped, or flew, it was fair game. Rocky and I were friends too. A couple of days after Rocky was released from the garage, I was outside planting in the new garden. He had been following me around the yard and lying down just where I was working. I finally stopped to lean against the split in the trunk of our apple tree when I felt this creature running up my back, over the top of my head, and launching across the yard…all without claws. It was more funny than shocking that this fun-loving cat wanted to play tag.

Last night, at about 10:45, Rocky died. Earlier this week we noticed that he wasn’t his usual energetic self, and something didn’t look right with his mouth. It turned out that his mouth was full of lesions. The veterinarian we took him too cleaned him up and dosed him with antibiotics and cortisone. Alan and I worked all week to keep him medicated and hydrated. He eventually stopped eating, and then drinking. Whatever caused the infection was stronger than he was, and it was stronger than our love for him. We knew at bedtime last night that he probably wouldn’t make it through the night. As I tucked Zac into bed and headed up the stairs, I heard him say a little boy prayer to Jesus to make Rocky well so that they could play again soon. I walked outside to the garage and looked in the window to see Alan sitting in a chair in the middle of the garage with his head hanging down and Rocky on a towel on the floor…Rocky’s front paws reaching out to touch Alan’s foot. Alan and I tried one more time to help him, but Rocky took his last gasp while were holding him.

Zac was still awake when it was all over, so I lay on his bed beside him and told him that Rocky was curled up in Jesus’ lap, and he wasn’t hurting or sick any more. He was excited until he realized what I was saying. Alan and I had a long discussion with him about the soul and heaven and what happens when we die. Not that we hadn’t had this conversation before, but this was Zac’s first experience with something that he loved dying. Alan and Zac buried Rocky beside the rose bushes this morning; the place where I found him and where he took solace when he was sick and wanted to rest outside. The white roses are in bloom now. A few hours ago I walked out to the garden to check on the growing plants. I half expected to see a gray and white bundle of energy romping through the grass in the backyard or scaling a tree. As I climbed the back steps, my eye was caught by the freshly dug grave. Eventually the grass will grow over the spot, and the boys will move on with their summer. I’m sure there will be a long line of pets in our lives as the children grow. But there will only have been one special Rocky. God’s speed my friend.