a good, good cat (pt. 2)
This is the second part of an inadequate tribute to our beloved Bubba, who passed away abruptly four weeks ago today. The first post described how Bubba came into our lives, but this part of the story is running even longer than I expected, so a couple more installments are forthcoming. Thank you for bearing with me ...
In all honesty, I don’t remember many specifics about Slugger’s first few months with us. I know the girls (Baby and Missy) weren’t particularly thrilled to have a male intruder tracking them into their hiding places all of a sudden, or invading their sanctuary, period. Neutered though we were assured he was, sometimes it was hard to tell, the way he acted when the mood struck him from time to time! Needless to say, there was a lot of prissy hissing going on, most of it from basic annoyance though.
I do remember two early and vivid impressions however, which set the tone for our time together. The first was Christmas morning, just a matter of days after we brought him home. Cheryl was still asleep, and I had woken up with Christmas-day excitement but had nothing to do except lay on the couch for a while. I was only there for a few minutes before Slugger jumped up onto the couch and then stretched out across my belly, his head only inches from mine. He didn’t look me in the eyes that close, he never would for whatever reason, but in my book it was an unbelievably intimate act. It was such a simple gesture, no doubt, but so foreign to what we expected from our other cats.
I couldn’t have imagined a better Christmas present. He lay there with me for a good twenty to thirty minutes, purring ever so softly as he soaked in my caresses. Perhaps this sounds weird to a non-cat owner, but from the very start I loved how different his body felt from the other cats, more thick and muscular, his head large and solid like a football player’s (I would imagine). I noticed how his white-and-black fur was shorter and more coarse than the other two. And most of all I loved how much more firm and playful I could be with him than the other cats, even rolling him over and scratching the length of his belly when he was stretched out on the floor. To this day, Baby nips and bolts off in a huff at the slightest wrong touch, and Missy jumps at most sudden movements. But Slugger seemed happy to absorb just about any affection, though as he got a bit older even he drew the line of toleration from time to time if it got a bit too rough.
Another impression I’ll always remember was introducing Slugger to our small group a week or two into the new year after Christmas break. A handful of fellow twenty-something’s met in our apartment every other Monday or so to work through a book or study and pray, and just spend time together. I couldn’t wait for them to show up and find a cat in their midst who actually allowed them to pet and play with him. Baby would sit with us at times, always in the same spot at the end of the couch, but she took a swipe at more than a few straying hands! Slugger didn’t disappoint as our newest host, of course, and the group was enamored with him just as we were. He greeted several of them with a happy grunt and a jump into their lap, and then positioned himself graciously next to anyone who would let him. If a parent could be proud of a feline “child,” I was that night, and every time after that when visitors were over. We showed him off and talked about him like a favorite son.
Speaking of grunting, Cheryl and I couldn’t get enough of Slugger’s verbal communication. More often than not he greeted us with a gruff, friendly grunt - when he saw us walk in the door, when we opened his eagerly-awaited can of wet food, or when he just wanted some attention from us. After a while it dawned on me that it was as if he was saying “what’s up?” Sometimes he got a bit more worked up, and strung several grunts and yaks and groans together, none of which sounded anything like the prototypical meows and whines coming from the other two. He was a natural communicator, without a doubt, and more than verbose when he wanted to be.
Perhaps you’re wondering why Slugger is referred to as ‘Bubba’ in the introduction to the posts. Neither Cheryl or I are from the South, though I’ve lived in Virginia and Cheryl’s hometown of Tucson, Arizona might not be too much of a stretch in some respects. But as that first year went on, and Slugger became even more complacent (even more of a lounge cat) in his new environs, both of us independently found ourselves referring to him more and more as ‘Bubba.’ It just came out, no doubt because it seemed like the perfect description for his personality, which was nothing but laidback and affable. When we both discovered we were calling him by the same nickname, we smiled and relented to this obviously fated moniker.
Though he was Slugger by record, and a handsome name it remains, ‘Bubba’ is who he was, and who he'll always be to us.
(to be continued ... by the way, the first photo has Baby in the background, the second features my mother Cheryl DeVries and grandmother Joanne Brubaker, and the last my wife Cheryl)
October 29, 2009
Reader Comments (4)
:(...so sorry, you guys.
He actually looks like a Bubba! I believe animals are sent to minister to us much more than we minister to them, even though they are our "pets." It sounds as though Bubba did just that for you. Each little animal being is so very special.
Thank you, Tracey, and I couldn't agree more, Brenda. I think God's intention for human-animal relationship was always one of mutual affirmation, joy and blessing, and pets seems to show us that the most. Perhaps that's why the term "companion animal" is so meaningful - Ben
Ben, I remember visiting you all that day with Grandma and seeing Bubba. Fond memories....
Love, Mom