Rodney came into my life in 1999. It was Thanksgiving, and my boyfriend and I were at my parent’s house for dinner. My mother had failed to spay and neuter her 5 cats, and so she had two litters of kittens to find homes for. We were about to move into our first apartment and I knew I wanted animals, so we decided to take two kittens home. There was an argument over which two to choose. There were two black and white kittens and one grey/black and white. My boyfriend thought the grey kitten was ugly (A testament of his character), and wanted to take the two that looked alike. I argued that the grey kitten was beautiful and sweet. I agreed that we would take the first two that came to us, knowing full well that one would be the friendly grey kitten. I named him Rodney, after the guinea pig from Dr. Doolittle, and his brother Rudy, after the football movie.
Rodney proved himself to be the friendliest cat on the planet. He loved people, loved attention and thought nothing of slamming his head against stranger’s legs when they were visiting. Everyone loved him, even friends of mine who hated cats. He even left an impression on the technician who was hooking up our cable. Rodney insisted on helping with the installation, by rubbing on every wire and tool and then jumped in the tech’s lap, purring loudly. The man then said, “I’ve never been much for cats, but this guy is so sweet, I think he’s changing my mind.” He had that affect on people.
Over the years, as I brought more and more animals home, Rodney always welcomed them with a friendly sniff and rub of fur. When my dogs shoved their noses into his side roughly, he would counter with a gentle head butt. When our new kitten wanted to play, Rodney obliged, teaching him how to chase string and catch mice. When my niece would visit and the other cats would run, it was Rodney who stayed, letting her pet and pull his fur. He loved the attention. Rodney was all about love. And every morning I would wake to ten pounds of fur on my chest, whiskers tickling my face and purring rumbling in my ear. It was time for breakfast, and when Rodney was hungry, he let you know.
Rodney was the first to greet you at the door and welcome you into our home. He loved bird watching in the window, stuffing himself into tiny boxes and stretching out in the sunshine that streaked across the floor. He loved bottle caps, balls of tinfoil and shoelaces. He loved French fries, potato chips and tomato sauce. But most of all, he loved me. From the minute I brought him home he was attached to my hip. He followed me everywhere, even the bathroom. He was always by my side. He was there for every up and down of my life and always offered a purr on my lap and an ear to listen. I love all my animals, but Rodney, my Budd, was my special cat.
A few days before he passed, though he had stopped eating, he still had some energy. It was a beautiful, warm spring-like day in February, a very rare occurrence. We had gone grocery shopping. Romeo propped the door open to bring in the bags, and as usual, there was Rodney, curious as ever. I started taking down my winter flag to replace it as he slowly stepped onto the porch. He sniffed the warm air, the plants on the steps that were still brittle from winter and squinted his eyes at the brightness of the sun. I sat down next to him, he pushed his head into my hand and together we enjoyed the sunshine. We sat there for about 40 minutes, until a bee came buzzing over, but that’s just because I was afraid. Rodney gently sniffed the bee and watched it buzz away. He was always friendly, always gentle, always loving.
When we went in, we left the door open so that he could still enjoy the sunshine. First he sat there, perfectly, just staring out the door before stretching out exactly in the beam on the floor. In the days that followed, he became more sluggish, less interested in being near us and I knew it was time.
I’ve been a part of countless euthanasia’s during my time working at shelters and animal hospitals. I can honestly say that there has never been one that didn’t affect me. Whether I knew the pet or not, I was always sad, allowing myself to feel for the life we were about to free. So, of course, I knew what to expect and had prepared myself as much as possible for the inevitable. Still, I had never had to put my own pet to sleep, and this was my “special” cat. It was one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do, extremely heartbreaking and emotionally painful. But, it was also very peaceful. I knew that he was no longer in pain, no longer suffering and I was so thankful to be there, stroking his fur and telling him I loved him as he passed.
Of course I cried, a lot, and still do every now and then. It’s strange to come home and not have him there greeting me, or to sit down and not have him in my lap. Our other animals feel it too. Ripken has been much more clingy than usual. Perhaps he learned a thing or two from Rodney about how to express love. And, maybe he sent that baby kitten to us to rescue, knowing that we’d take good care of her.
Of course I cried, a lot, and still do every now and then. It’s strange to come home and not have him there greeting me, or to sit down and not have him in my lap. Our other animals feel it too. Ripken has been much more clingy than usual. Perhaps he learned a thing or two from Rodney about how to express love. And, maybe he sent that baby kitten to us to rescue, knowing that we’d take good care of her.
I’m thankful for the warm February day we got to enjoy and for the eleven years that I got to share with a very special soul who brought sunshine to my life every day. When I think of Rodney, I like to imagine that he’s sprawled out in the grass somewhere on a warm spring day, smelling the flowers, making friends with the bugs and other animals, soaking up the sun and making everything around him feel his love.
