Hello. I'm one of those lurking readers that very rarely post. I recently had a shocking loss of a pet and didn't really know where to go to share my story of Taffy. I felt this would be the best place to do it.
I’m an animal lover. I was raised in a family that loved animals and I inherited that too. I am the guy who’s girlfriend has to console him after watching Bambi. I’m the one that usually plays with my friends pets when I’m at their houses. Just who I am.
Two years back, right before I was about to enter college, our 15-year old basset hound Kramer died. He was the only pet we had for a while and I grew up with him from preschool to high school graduation. I was devastated for a while and even to this day, I still miss him. It is tough just writing this small passage about him without getting teary-eyed.
We got four cats starting from 2001 to about 2006 that all led to quite the funny little animal kingdom in my household. We have Kit Kat who was our first cat and is a ragdoll that begs for treats and hates being held (but loves sleeping by your feet). Then we have Taffy, an orange tabby cat who’s weight gain was pretty comical followed by Chester, the ageless and lovable Mainecoon who we adopted and I’m sure is part-human in his reactions and the youngest one, Trixie, who is a tuxedo cat that has really turned into a lovable little thing.
I am the first to laugh at the “crazy cat lady” (which my sister & I were scared that our Mom would become) but they do have a point when they talk about cats. They do have funny social lives. Kit Kat & Taffy were as tight as possible. Chester was hated by Taffy but loved by all the humans. Trixie was/is too energetic for all of them though Kit Kat took a liking to her. See, I sound crazy right? But anyone that has more than one pet can attest to this.
Taffy sadly passed away two days ago and the shock to me is still there.
You see, we got Taffy from the animal adoption center that we used to frequent. It’s mostly a small zoo that has puppies and kittens for sale but is really top-notch with how much the workers love their animals.
Taffy was around 5-6 weeks old when we got her. She “picked” us as opposed to us picking her as she attempted to crawl up the cage when we came up. I was about ten years old and we all agreed to take in this tiny, orange kitten.
I wish I could tell you how tiny she was. She wasn’t mature enough to eat the kitten chow we got her so we had to feed her baby hot dogs so she would eat. She was playful and daring but we were worried about her being around Kit Kat who was about a year old at this time. We kept the two cats separate until we decided that she was big enough to play with him. From that point on, those two were quite the pair.
Taffy eventually became “my cat” as time wore on. She would follow me to bed every night and sleep with me every night. It would become a routine. I’d call her name and she’d race up the stairs. Only problem I ever had is that she would purr too loud for me to sleep sometimes.
When I went to college, she apparently didn’t adapt too well. She wasn’t depressed but she would urinate on everything I owned as a way to “mark territory” or something like that. Only time I’ve ever been honored to be urinated on for the time being. So from that point on, she could no longer sleep in my room but I still tried to give her the same amount of love I’d normally do.
Over the past two weeks, something strange was happening. Not with the cat, but with me. I’m an atheist. I’m not spiritual. However, I was having weird thoughts about the cats. It kind of hit me that they were all aging, not old enough to be “worried” about but certainly not young (minus Trixie). Taffy took resident in an old Easter basket that I had. She’d curl up in it (just like she would curl up in everything else) and if she wasn’t in it, she was on the kitchen table.
I run cross country and track in college so at night, I would do my ab/pushup routine. Every night Taffy would rub me and ask to be pet. After I’d do my workout, I’d pet Taffy and just sort of appreciated her. The thought of her being “my cat” sunk in to me and just on Thursday (the day before her passing) I was thinking that I should let her come into my room again.
On Friday, I left home for the weekend to meet up with some of my teammates. Right before I left, I noticed a small bump on her skin (which was not relevant to her death) and I told my Mom “I’m worried about her, I just don’t want her to die.”. My Mom told me not to worry. An hour after I left, Taffy passed. In my Dad’s arms. With people who loved her.
I wasn’t told until I came back home Sunday when my Mom told me. I was immediately shocked however it just now hit me the magnitude of her being gone. Her Easter Basket is empty, and I don’t know what I’ll do with it. My room is closed and I know, I’ll never get the chance to have her in there again. The only time I can see her now is through memories. That is what stings most. I realized I never fully maximized the time with the pet as I took her for granted.
RIP Taffy (2002-2011).