Shelter Cats and Redemption

We interrupt this blog about Tyler to bring you an important message! Today is national adopt a shelter pet day!  I couldn't let it go by without sharing a brief thought or two.  Tyler was, as you already know, a shelter cat.  Adopting Tyler from Littler Shelter was the single best decision I have made in my life.  It will always remain that way. He was a great cat, in every possible way.  Giving him a home was the most rewarding experience of my life, and he gave me far more than I ever gave him. He gave me unconditional love. THOUSANDS of cats and dogs are waiting at your local shelter now.  All they want is a home.  All they want is love. They deserve the same chance that Tyler got. ADOPT!

Tyler had the perfect cure whenever a bad case of the Mondays came on. SLEEP! Hope your Monday is treating you well. Thank you all for sharing this journey with me!

A few nights later we got our first taste of what I would refer to as the “Tyler Hoppity Walk.” We were watching TV in the living room.  Noticing a pattern here?  We watched A LOT of TV as a family. No flat screens in those days, TV’s had asses.  In our case it was a 50 inch Hitachi (is that brand still around?) in the den.  It wasn't even HD!  How we roughed it.  We were watching, actually I don't remember, but whatever it was my father chose it as he rarely if ever let anyone else use the remotes.  No, really.  If I even pretended to take the remotes away from him he would go into hysterics.  Like how I would imagine a heroin addict would react during the first stages of withdrawal. “Ok, Danny,” I HATED when he called me Danny.  “Let me have the remote back.” “It’s not funny anymore.”  At that point I would return the remote to his hand and roll my eyes. My father even flipped to the same channels, in the ...

Upstairs we went and had our bagels.  Meals with my parents usually went the same way back in those days: my mother would serve my father, I would serve myself, and I would bring a magazine and read it at the table while my father stared at the TV. A car magazine, an entertainment magazine, something like that. I had and still have varying interests and am a voracious magazine and newspaper reader.  I read at the table mostly to annoy him.  We would ALWAYS have the exact same exchange: “Danny, don’t read at the table.” “Stop staring at the TV and I’ll stop reading this magazine.” This was in the days before iPhones and iPads.  I read every magazine on my iPad these days, imagine if iPads existed back then?  There probably wouldn't be an argument, as everyone seems to stare at some sort of device these days rather than each other. “So….” I asked.  “When do you think we can let Tyler see the rest of the house?” “I don't know, he just got ...

Here's Tyler in early 2001, in my father's old office on Long Island.  If my dad was working, Tyler was in there.  If there was an empty garbage can or box, he would jump in it.  Why?  Because he could. Because he was Tyler.

“What does that mean?” I asked my mother.  Serious?  A cat doesn’t smile, they ALWAYS look serious. “I don't know, he looks like an owl, or a bandit.  He has a serious look on his face.” “I think he’s cool looking.” My father replied.  Well, thank god at least he shares my opinion. We went inside.  Now, as I said, we were living high on the hog in those days.  My father had a well-paying job, my mother had several credit cards with a large amount of credit, and me….well…..I was just starting out in the museum world as a budding curator.  What’s a curator?  Even I never really figured that out.   After a lifetime in Brooklyn, we escaped to Long Island in late 1996 to a newly built….large house.  I never knew the type.  Ranch, split ranch, colonial, imperial, continental, a realtor I’m not.  It was large and it had 3 floors, skylights, and a hot tub in the master bath, a built in sound system (pre-Sonos) and...

I turned to Gayle and exclaimed "Tyler's the one, obviously."  I didn't have much choice in the matter.  He had chosen me and that was that.  "Yes, I see that." Gayle was happy.  I was happy.  He seemed like just the cat I was looking for.  Gayle brought me to a back room to sit down and fill out the adoption contract.  Yes, there was a contract.  Full of clauses like "we have the right to inspect your house and the animal's living condition at any time."  Sure, come over, my mom cleans every day and she will probably offer you a bagel with lox. Another was "if you declaw this animal we reserve the right to prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law."  I called Gayle over. "Um....can you write a note on this clause?  He's already declawed."  She did. Whew. Tyler hung out in the room I was in, which actually doubled as the laundry for all the cat beds and towels.  Above the overworked washing machines w...

My escort to the cattery was a shelter employee named Gayle.  Or Gail.  I never asked how she spelled it.  Anyway, she had 9 cats and was the resident expert on every cat.  “What are you looking for?  Any specific color?” She asked, obviously expecting a snobby Long Island answer.  Apparently on Long Island (Lawn Guyland) people matched their pets to their decor.  That always pissed me off.  Match their PERSONALITY to your decor, not the color of their fur! “I’m looking for a cool, friendly cat.  I still live at home with my parents, so we prefer one already declawed.” “Oh, we have a few.  You would never declaw a cat would you?” “Never, been there asked that.” I did not want to get into THAT again. A short walk behind some barking dog kennels and we were at the front door of the aforementioned cattery. “Now, don't expect them all to approach you.  Many have been here for years and are really unadoptable at ...

To say I jumped full force into adopting a cat was the biggest understatement of the century. I went online (yes I was online by then) and looked up every fucking shelter on the island. Made some calls, made some visits, but few had what I was looking for.  A declawed cat.  This being my first experience with an animal shelter, I was introduced firsthand to the experience of the…..crazy cat lady.  Wow were these ladies intense!  Almost every visit went like this: "Hello, can we help you?" "Yes, I'm looking to adopt a cat.  I'd prefer one already declawed.  It was kind of a decision to get my parents to agree to adopting a cat." “You don’t believe in declawing a cat, do you?” “No, like I said, I would NEVER declaw a cat,  I would like to find a cat already declawed.” “OK, that’s fine.  You do know that removing a cat’s claws is the equivalent of your fingertips?” “Ouch.” OK, OK, I get it.  Jesus, I won’t declaw...

Animals never did well in my home as a kid.  Even before I was born.  My parents had a German shepherd named Knappie (named for Napoleon Solo from The Man from UNCLE) who had an outright hatred of my mother.  I’ve seen a picture, and he was basically the size of a horse. He LOVED my father, but my mother, not a chance.  Apparently he knew when she was pregnant with me and turned on her.  When my dad would leave for work he would stand eye to eye with her and stare her down.  So….he went to live at a farm out east, or so they told me.  I always wondered what happened to him. My first REAL pet was Casey.  Casey Paraguine Tuck.  Apparently named for a character in The Hobbit, which was The Bible to my dad.  I’ve seen the movie, but that is one of many books I have refused to read mostly to spite my father.  Anyway, Casey was a Golden Retriever.  Being 7 I didn’t have much say in the decision making process, but apparently at ...

I know what you're thinking.  Another blog about cats?   Don't I see them enough on my Facebook and Instagram feeds?   Well, I’m not writing this book for you.   I actually don't care if you read this or not.   I’m writing this for me.  To help me process my feelings of loss over……a cat.   To you he may just be just another cat, but to me, he was the best cat ever.  Without a doubt.  I will probably never have a son of my own, so Tyler was the closest thing to that.  I loved him more than a pet, I loved him as if he was my own child. My fourteen years with Tyler happened to coincide with some of the brightest and darkest periods of my forty years on this planet.  He was there through them all.  The soaring highs, and the deepest, darkest lows.  So…..maybe as a way to jot those memories down, or maybe as a way to make sure I don’t forget a single detail, I’m writing this book.  My first book,...

Just a short note..... Welcome to the official blog of my upcoming book "Shelter Cats & Redemption." Ever since the death of my beloved Tyler the cat, I've had it in mind to write a book.  Semi-autobiographical, semi-cat biography of my beloved Tyler.  I've waffled back and forth for the exact format I wanted to present it in.  One day....it hit me. Why not blog!  The rest of the world seems to be blogging (right?) so why not a blog about Tyler? So, here goes, hope you enjoy this journey with me. Dan