Dali & Me
I find it
funny when people ask if I am a “dog” person or a “cat” person. I like both. I like horses too.
And fish, and frogs, and lizards, and koala bears. I held one once in Australia and it was
so soft! I’m not crazy about
rodents or snakes. The point is
that, in general, I like animals and am a nurturing person. I like having pets.
I do have to
admit that most of my pets have been cats purely because of the
convenience. My first pet cat as
an adult was acquired while I was living in Japan. My friend had three kittens, two of which were brothers left
on a vet’s doorstep before their eyes were even open. They had been bottle-fed and were about three months
old. She asked me if I wanted one
of them and that is how Dali and I found each other.
Like many
animals, Dali was not his initial name.
When I adopted him, his name was Ciao, but somehow the name just didn’t
seem to fit. I started making a
list of possible names and tried calling him by them one by one. The one he finally responded to in a
positive manner was “Salvador Dali.”
Quirky artist, quirky owner, quirky cat. Worked for me.
Having been
essentially raised by humans, my new little feline companion craved constant
attention and was a surprisingly vocal little fellow. I carried on long conversations with him
in mostly Japanese so that I could practice. He was “Dari-kun” and believe it or not would come to the
word “oiide” (pronounced oh-ee-day).
Unfortunately, he was such a social little kitty that he seemed lonely without
me when I was off teaching during the day. I’d return from work and he would hear my heels clicking on
the pavement outside my apartment.
His little head would peer from the sliding glass window, still open a
bit due to the warm weather, and he would start chattering at me before I could
make it up the stairs and into my apartment. Since the official word on pets was “no pets” I decided I’d
best find a solution to his loneliness.
Robot pets
being completely out of a teacher’s budget in the early 90’s, adopting a second
kitten seemed my best bet. We
found Coco (Chanel) in a pet store begging to come home with us. His adoptive sister was a beautiful
mixed breed (thus making her a bargain) and completely different
personality-wise, but she solved his loneliness problem and they never
separated until she died of cancer a few years ago. When she died, Dali began the same lonely talking that he
used to do when I first adopted him.
He never adjusted to being a single cat without his Coco.
Dali as a
kitten was adventurous and fun. I
had to cover my phone in Japan because he and Coco would play while I was at
work. For some reason, he was
fascinated with my phone and I would come home to see that it had been
“dialed.” Big problem when some of
your speed dials are international.
I was always afraid that one of my relatives in the States would have
this mysterious message from my cat.
A large plastic bowl inverted over the phone solved that problem. On the weekends, I used to put Dali on
a kitty leash and bundle him into my backpack. I loved riding my bike for long journeys down by the Sapporo
River to this beautiful mountainside park, so I would take Dali along. He enjoyed the rides and would often
say “Ohaio” to passersby. Such the
charmer! My little Japanese
kitties made an excellent personal point to talk about with my students and
they loved my stories about their antics.
When it was
time for me to leave Japan, I flew back to Delaware to my parents’ home with my
cats. They lived with them while I
travelled for a while. I got
letters from them and wrote letters to them. When I returned to the States, I lived with my cats and
parents before moving into an apartment of my own with them. Dali & Coco certainly had a number
of residences! We moved back to my
parents’ again before I bought a house in Wilmington where our feline family
exploded. Dali & Coco were
joined by Pandora…and then Percival. I think of all of the houses Dali & Coco lived in,
they may have loved my Wilmington house best. It was a 3 story Victorian with high ceilings and lots of
sunny windows. It was truly kitty
heaven. There were so many nooks,
crooks, crannies, and hiding spots in that house.
My house in
Wilmington had a feral colony living in the backyard. It seems that cats are attracted to bleeding hearts. Multiple litters of kittens were born
in my backyard, although I was unable to catch any save Percival and prior to
moving from the house two more kittens, Buster & Cleopatra. We did catch a few adults and take them
to the Humane Society to be spayed and given shots before re-releasing. Those with feline leukemia were
euthanized so as not to spread the disease & give them a more humane death
than feline leukemia. We tried to
find a home for Buster and Cleo, but it didn’t work out. They came to live with us in
Radnor. Buster died in the first
year, but Cleo is still alive today 12 years later. My mom now has Pandora and someone else adopted Percival
ultimately.
When Dali was
7, we moved to Radnor to our current carriage house. At the time 4 indoor cats and 2 barn cats didn’t seem crazy,
but it was just Kurt, Madeline and I.
Once Luke was born, the crazy set in and Percy went to live
elsewhere. Pandora soon moved on
too. Dali actually formed an interesting
relationship with Cleo, our clever barn cat who is also very vocal. She would often “converse” with him
through the windows of my bedroom, the living room, or the kitchen, although
they always kept a respectful distance.
Most everyone, aside from me, began calling Dali “Sal” once he moved to
the States as a shortened form of Salvador.
The years
continued to pass and Dali never lost his affectionate nature. Every visitor to our household received
a feline greeting, not matter their age.
When he met our friend Julio, who is Spanish, he exclaimed, “That cat,
he has a moustache!” A line
forever stuck in my head… The
children adored him and he was tolerant of being picked up and groped by
toddlers. He even liked to play a
game of hide and seek where he’d pretend to run off, but not make his hiding
place too difficult nor resist being picked up when found.
About 3 years
ago I realized his liver and kidneys were beginning to fail, but there was
little I could do for him. I
changed his diet to a premium cat food and tuna and surprisingly his health
took a positive turn. He still
slowed down, but not as quickly as I thought he would. I always used to laugh about his lack
of courage, particularly in relation to Coco and Cleo who were amazing hunters. About a year and a half ago, I woke up
at about 3am to what was clearly the noise of a mouse chewing something in my
bedroom. Coco would have been on
the job immediately trapping that vermin.
Dali chose a different path.
He hopped a little closer to me on the bed for protection and began
talking to me. I looked at him and
said, “well, if you aren’t going to try and catch it, could you at least go
wake up Daddy?’ And so he
did. Unfortunately, Kurt thought
he was whining for food, so I still had to get up and tell him about the vermin
situation. And when the trap went off, Dali again took the passive role of
alerting and seeking protection with Mom.
No way he was going near vermin!
Last winter it
was clear my sweet little feline friend was nearing the end of his long
life. We went to visit my vet, and
the news was that he was going senile, becoming painfully arthritic, and dying
of liver and kidney disease. Luckily
humans have a choice to end animals suffering. I left with some painkillers and spent several months saying
goodbye. In September it became
apparent that Dali was in more pain and I had a decision to make. I decided that it was unfair to
continue to let him get any worse.
So we spent the morning before I let him go cuddling together on my bed,
the constant companions we’d become.
And then I said a very tearful goodbye. It has taken me months to write about him.
There aren’t
as many famous cat memoirs out there as dog memoirs. The Art of Racing In the Rain, Marley & Me, and hundreds
of other famous dogs have topped the bestseller lists and even made it to
Hollywood, but there are a few notable books about our feline friends too. I’ve compiled a list below for anyone
seeking a memoir about kitties.
Cat Memoirs
worth meowing about:
Waiting for My Cats to Die: A Memoir
By Stacy Horn
Sleeping with Cats: A Memoir
By Marge Piercy
Dewey's Nine
Lives: The Legacy of the Small-Town Library Cat Who Inspired Millions
By Vicki Myron & Bret Witter
CAT COMPANIONS --- A Memoir of Loving and Learning
By Susan M.
Seidman
Cats in the Belfry
By Doreen Tovey
The Cat & The Comedian
By Tyler Feneck
For the Love of a Cat: A Publisher's Story
By David St John Thomas
