Tippy was a notable cat for several reasons. Probably what we'll remember most is his remarkable ability to make vertical leaps – he was way better at this than any other cat we've ever owned. We could frequently find him in the most unlikely places, like the tops of kitchen cabinets seven feet high, or on top of very high bookshelves. Watching him make these leaps, we figured out that it wasn't so much that he had levitation superpowers – it was more that he was very skilled at finding the tiniest of paw-holds that would let him push higher and faster in mid-leap. If you watched him make a leap, say, to the top of a kitchen cabinet, at first blush it looked like one fluid and seamless leap straight from the floor. But if you watched him very carefully, you'd see that part way up he'd get a little boost by pushing down on a cabinet handle or a counter top. The other cats just never figured out how to do this.
This ability suited Tippy's personality to a tee, because he really was the epitome of a curmudgeonly cat. Most of the time, he really didn't care for the company of other cats or the dogs. Being alone was what he wanted, and his ability to get to perches the other cats couldn't reach was his means to that end. Every once in a while Tippy would come out and socialize, or even play – but those were rare occasions.Tippy had another unique skill, too: he was really good at getting into drawers, especially those that he knew were filled with something soft and fuzzy – clothes or towels, for example. He'd dangle himself from the drawer he wanted to get into (with his front paws), then kick with his hind feet to pull it out. All he needed was a few inches of opening, then he'd hop in, curl up, and go to sleep. We had to be careful when we saw partially-opened drawers – if we shut them, we might be trapping him inside. Sometimes he'd be far back inside the drawer, too, so we had to search thoroughly. Sometimes it would be subtler – he'd pull out one drawer, then go in through it, climb over the back of it and down into the next drawer below!
With us, his fully-owned humans, things were different – especially when he was younger. He was then a serious “lap kitty”, and would stay with us for hours on end. I spent many an hour working in my office with Tippy perched on my lap, purring softly...
For the past couple of months he's been in decline from a combination of just plain old age and pancreatitis. We fed him “chicken smoothies” (roast chicken blended with chicken broth), made sure he wasn't in pain, and showered him with attention and affection. In the past five weeks that Debbie's been gone, caring for Tippy has been a big part of my days. Making his smoothies, keeping him and his pen clean, administering his medications, giving him sub-cutaneous fluids, and just giving him some attention and affection occupied several hours daily. He and I were a team. Then in the last few days, other organs started to fail, he caught a cold, and stopped eating. Dr. Christine Wilson, our wonderful Jamul veterinarian, kept us well-informed about the options, his condition, and prognosis. Yesterday afternoon it became clear that no miracles were going to occur, and our first priority was no suffering for Tippy – so we decided it was time. Debbie couldn't be here, as she's back in Indiana taking care of her mom. I stayed with him, held his head and caressed him as he went peacefully.
It's so hard to make these decisions, even with a great vet like Dr. C. to guide us ... but I am very grateful that we have the option to allow our pets a painless end that is as comfortable as such a thing could possibly be.
I buried Tippy this morning, out under the pine trees with the other cats we've lost over the years. It was sad and a bit lonely, but in a strange way, a cathartic ritual...
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