Walt was my third cat. He had a long and happy life. I've told pieces of his story to friends over the years, but now I have put it all down in one place.
Follow me after the squiggle. It's a bit of a long story, but he did live for over 15 years.
First, I adopted Katie from friends in 1985. She was one year old at that point, and was the "extra" cat in their house. She didn't even have a name. I love literature, so I named her after Kate Chopin, the 19th Century American writer. Katie was a love. She just wanted to be with me. She purred loudly and spent the majority of her time on my lap or in the sunshine.
A few years later, I moved from New York to West Virginia to go to grad school. Katie made the trip with me, of course. She didn't always like the long hours in the car, but she managed. Once in our new home, she fell into her old routines. All was good.
A couple of years later, I though Katie should have a companion. This was a mistake!! Single cats like the solitude. Katie did not take kindly to Toni (Toni Morrison for those keeping track), a 4 month old male stray I adopted from the local shelter. Toni was sweet and affectionate, but he was a young boy with tons of energy. And he wanted to play with Kate. She, of course, would have none of it!
In 1995, my neighbor's unneutered male cat, Grady, became the father of some kittens. The owner of the unspayed momma cat dropped Walt, a little black kitten, at Grady's doorstep. Grady took to fatherhood like a pro. All summer, I watched Grady teach Walt how to hunt--the poor mice never stood a chance! Grady was social and liked when I'd give him fresh catnip. Walt (unnamed as of this point, but it was inevitable you know. I named him after Walt Whitman) was feral. He didn't get close to me at all.
As the summer faded to fall, I made sure Walt had food and shelter. I named him. And, one happy day, as he was eating, I reached over and stroked the side of his face. He started purring, and that was it. He was mine.
Sort of.
I let him in the apartment from time to time. He knew to use the catbox without me showing him. That was impressive. But Katie and Toni didn't know what to make of him. The first time I brought Walt in, Katie and Toni stood side by side and gave me the "What the frack is THAT thing doing in our house?" look. But Walt was a perfect addition. He gave Toni something to do. Toni finally had a playmate to chase, pounce on, and terrorize. Katie had her freedom! It was a win-win-win situation. But I wasn't totally convinced because three cats for a thirty-something single woman was veering on the strange.
I moved to a new apartment that January. As I was packing and moving, my friends asked me if I was taking Walt with me. No, I said. He was a stray. He'll be fine. But on moving day, I changed my mind. I loaded him in the carrier and brought him to our new home.
Life went along. Toni and Walt were best buds, and Katie was peacefully able to enjoy my lap and the sunshine.
In June, 1999, Katie got sick and died suddenly. She was 14 and a half. I wasn't prepared for this. It threw me into a depression I am still dealing with. Toni and Walt did miss her after a fashion. They looked for her and were surprised when she wasn't there. I missed Kate like you wouldn't believe, but at least I had Toni and Walt.
Four months later, my step-brother (on my mother's side) died of a drug overdose. He had been living with the pain of drug abuse and mental illness for years. Still, all the potential for a better life died with him.
Six months after that, in March, 2000, Toni got sick. He was diagnosed with Feline Infectious Peritonitis, and I had to put him to sleep to spare him a horrible death. I was devastated. Just because life does suck that much, my step-mother (dad's wife and someone who I loved very much) died the next day. This was the year of death. I grieved and grieved.
But I wasn't the only one. Now poor Walt was alone.
He started sleeping with me, getting closer to me than he ever had. He always had Toni. Now we both had to find a way to live without him.
I had Walt tested for FIP and he came back negative for both titers. This was great news. It meant that I could bring more cats into my house. My friend called me at the end of March to tell me that her friend's cat had kittens. Did I want one?
ONE??? I'll take two! A boy and a girl.
Eight weeks later, I brought Jane and Ralph into my house (Jane Austin and Ralph Waldo Emerson).
As you can see from this picture, Walt took to these babies like a duck to water. He spent the first year following them around and tending to them. He defied his own timid nature to protect them. He was, by nature, a hidey-kitty extraordinaire! But for a period of time, he had the courage to protect his babies. If you came to my house, he would place himself between you and the kittens. Imagine that. He instinctively knew he needed to protect them, even though he wasn't their father (or mother--read on).
He even allowed them to nurse on him. Seriously. One day, about a week after I brought them home, Jane stood up, thought for a moment (she's very smart), and walked over to Walt and nuzzled his belly. She found a nipple and started sucking. The needing, purring, and sucking noises were constant. She was in paradise. Then Ralph got up and did the same thing. I don't find this unusual for kittens, but for a neutered 5 year old male cat, I find it extraordinary!! He permitted this behavior for about a year!
For their whole lives, Jane and Ralph sought out Walt whenever they wanted loving. My affections were a distant second. Ralph could be laying on the couch, purring as I rubbed his belly. A more contented cat you wouldn't be able to find. But if Walt walked into the room, Ralph would get up, abandon me like a hot rock, and fly to Walt's side to get a licking on his head. At night, Jane would cry and cry from the living room, until I called to her to tell her that Walt was here in the bedroom. She'd run in and curl up in his belly. They knew his name. All I had to say was "Walt is here" and they'd come running.
Walt got sick and died in December, 2010. I knew it was coming, but you are never fully prepared. After he died, Jane and Ralph wandered around the house for weeks, looking for Walt. I couldn't even say his name. They would perk up and start looking around. It took a couple of weeks, bit finally, I could say "Walt" and they wouldn't panic.
Walt lived 15 and three-quarter years. He was born in West Virginia, moved to New Jersey when he was 6, and lived in 5 places in his life. He started life the baby of three and became the patriarch of three--gracefully moving into that new stage of his life.
I miss him. But I know that Jane and Ralph miss him more.
It's been over a year, but now they are getting closer to each other.