Tyler's 20th Birthday, Part 3: The BIG DAY!

Today's the day.

Twenty years ago today, by my estimations at least, the greatest cat that ever lived was born.....somewhere.....on Long Island.

In truth I never knew Tyler's exact birthday, neither did his shelter.

So, I gave him one.

Today.

June 9th, 1999.

Happy 20th birthday, old man.  I'm glad I was able to clean up your final resting place yesterday, finally, and apologies to Ashley for getting poison ivy while assisting me. Sorry!

How I wish you were here.  It's still not quite the same without you, but I'm hanging in there.

Until I see you again, I'll keep your story, and your memory, fresh in my mind and fresh in this blog.

Speaking of which, let's read about the rest of his "coming home" story without any further ado.

5. December 9th, 2000

“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 a large pool with an electric cover.  It was a NICE house.  The basement in and of itself was three times the size of my current apartment.  I miss that house.  I miss that pool.  I miss having rich parents.  I wasn't spoiled, OK, maybe I was a little, but I still miss it. 

It was decided that Tyler would be confined to the basement until he gets used to things.  Mind you, “confined” was hardly the term.  There were: 2 couches, a wall length bookcase and wall unit, full carpeting, a ping pong table, and a full marble bathroom with shower.  Trust me, Tyler hardly suffered. 

We all went downstairs, my mother closing the door behind us.  Cats for Dummies said to let the new cat out right by the litter box, so they know where it is and don't shit on everything. At least that's the theory.  It somehow imprints on their brain or something.  Apparently with a kitten you even need to go as far as putting them in the litter box and digging the litter with their paws so it becomes instinctual.  Hey, no matter, it beats having to walk a dog in the freezing cold at 5 in the morning. 

Finally….everything was ready.  Food?  Check.  Litter?  Check.  Cat toys and beds?  Check.  Here we go!

I opened the carrier door.  Tyler strode out as if he already owned the place.  As any cat owner knows it’s quite common, even expected, for a cat to run and hide the second they are brought into a new home or environment.  Cats are fiercely territorial, so it takes them time to acclimate to a new environment.  Some take days, some take weeks, even longer.  If done right, a cat is slowly introduced to a new environment a room at a time until they get used to the lay of the land.  Each cat is different, and adjusts at their own pace, so patience is needed. 

None of those rules applied to Tyler.

Tyler was, without a doubt, the happiest cat on earth on that early Saturday afternoon in December of 2000.  His tail shot straight in the air as he began scoping out his new territory.  His purr was so loud you would have been able to hear it from the international space station.  He smelled and rubbed everything, climbed every possible surface, and left his mark on every piece of everything.  Once that was done he jumped on the ping pong table and proceeded to rub, purr, flip on his back, wriggle, and head-but us non-stop for the next TWO HOURS.  I kid you not.  He was thrilled to be home with us.  THRILLED. 

I have to tell you my father could not stop smiling.  This man, this “pop” of mine, who always said NO to me when I would ask over and over for a pet, was giddy as a child in a toy store.

“You weren't kidding Daniel. I like his style.” He said, beaming.  He hadn't been this happy since the last George Carlin HBO special.  Like I said, TV was very important. 

“He’s cute, but he’s going to get black hair all over my furniture.”  My mother was less convinced.  A little stand-offish even, even though she was loving the attention.  My mother even went so far as to thank Tyler every time he would rub her or head-but her.

“Oh, thank you, Tyler” she would say.  The way my mother spoke it sounded more like Toy-LAH.  

“Ma, you don't have to be so polite.  Cats rub, he’s marking you as his territory.”  I explained.

“Oh, OK.” She didn't quite “read cat” yet.

Finally after 2 hours of cat bliss, Tyler found the red easy chair that was on one side of the room, curled up, and passed out cold, still purring.  

“Dan-YUL, I have bagels and whitefish spread, are you hungry?”  Dumb question. I was always hungry.

“Sure, let’s eat.”  Those 3 words were the happiest words my mother ever heard. 

“He looks like he wants to sleep anyway.” My father, justifying his desire to eat and watch cable and probably check the weather forecast.  My father rarely did anything outside, why he needed to check the weather 200 times a day was beyond me.  Did he have a crop somewhere that he was hiding from us?

I was hungry, sure, but I felt more than hunger.  I felt……AMAZING.  I cannot exaggerate enough the emotions that were overcoming me.  After SEVENTEEN years, I finally had a cat of my own.  In my home.  A young, healthy cat that will bond with me and be my pal.  My confidant.  My best friend.  Who will love me unconditionally, no matter what I looked like or what mood I was in. 

There is nothing in the world to truly describe the feeling of rescuing, SAVING, a shelter animal and giving it a home.  A FOREVER home.  It’s just the best feeling, and I have had the good fortune to have experienced that feeling four times in my 41 years.  Knowing that you saved that animal from a stressful, harmful environment, even death in the case of some shelters. Knowing that he had a home, with me, and being able to experience Tyler’s true JOY was the best feeling in the world.  Seeing Tyler’s joy at knowing that this was HIS home now and that he would never have to be in a shelter again as long as he lived was the most heart-warming emotion I have ever felt.  Better than sex, better than wine, better than the finest meal on the planet.  Will I ever really know what Tyler’s life was before I adopted him?  No, I’ll take Gayle at her word, but you never really know for sure if they’re just laying it on thick or not.  It didn’t really matter. What mattered was his life from that point on would be a great life.  I owed that to him.  I would see to that.  

I let my parents go upstairs first and went over to Tyler.  He was already in a deep sleep, curled up and purring gently.  The picture of contentment.

“I love you already Tyler.  You're my boy.  You will want for NOTHING.  It’s just you and me from now on.”

He looked up at me, squinted his eyes and purred.  I scratched his chin and he closed his eyes and picked his head up, signaling his enjoyment.

Then he went back to sleep, the happiest cat in the world.  

6. It's Tyler's World

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.  Maybe in a few weeks?”  My mother seemed to be in NO hurry.  If it was up to her, Tyler would stay in the basement for the long term.

“Sigh, ok.” I knew when to give up and drop a subject.  I went back to the bagel and lox.  There almost always was some form of lox or lox spread.  I took in enough omega 3 from lox in my first 28 years to last several lifetimes.

We were just finishing our lunch when I suddenly heard…..a howl…..from the basement.

HOWL!  HOWL!  

It sounded like a poltergeist was in the basement.

“Um….I think Toy-LAH is awake.” My mother said.

Sure enough, there was what appeared to be…..a paw….actually an entire leg, sticking out from under the basement door.  

I couldn't help but laugh.

“Let’s go hang out with Tyler.” My father said.  Again, surprising me.  Of the two, I didn't think he would be the one who would take to a cat.  I always expected my mother to, but she was the one that wasn't totally on board with this….not yet anyway.

Keeping Tyler from seeing the rest of his house (much to his annoyance) we went back downstairs to the basement.  Tyler ran right in front of us, like a tour guide at the Met.

Meow?  MEOW???  MEOW! 

He was happy to see us.  Back on the ping pong table for another session of rubbing, flipping onto his back, and general happy cat type stuff.  He LOVED to have his chin scratched, his head and ears as well. He was never able to get enough of that.

We spent the better part of the afternoon in the basement, watching TV, and just hanging with Tyler.  Tyler settled on the back part of one of the two floral couches that were down there (my mother had a thing for hideous floral couches, she may have been color blind) and just hung with us. Much to my disappointment, he didn't seem to want to sit in anyone’s lap. What he preferred to do was to just be in the same room and hang with us.  Like one of the family already. I focused on Tyler more than the TV that day. 

The next day, Tyler was broken out of the basement. He howled for the better part of the night, so my mother caved.  I opened the door, and out popped Tyler.  If a cat could say WHOA, he would have said it.  I swear his jaw dropped a little and his eyes bugged out.  For the next several hours, Tyler was the non-stop explorer.  He checked out every corner of the house, jumped on whatever he could jump on, and left his mark on EVERYTHING. Tail straight up the entire time, which is cat for VERY HAPPY. This was his home, his territory, and it became his job to patrol every corner.  This took planning! This took windows to stare out of! He looked out and surveyed his new territory from every possible window and vantage point. Tyler was from minute one what is known as an “alpha cat.”  He was the boss, he was in charge, we were just his subjects.

I followed him from a discreet distance.  This was, after all, my first experience with a cat, and I did not want to miss a thing. 

“Let him explore, Danny.” My father called out from his chair.  I ignored him. Not only because I wanted to be with Tyler, but also because I hated when he called me Danny. The pipes the pipes weren’t calling for me, you know? Besides, it was the most fun I had had in a very long time.  Just watching Tyler explore, look around, it warmed my heart.  It was all new to me, and I loved it! 

“This is your home little boy.  Your home. What do you think?”  He would look at me and flip on his back.  By this time he was letting me rub his stomach and chest as well as his chin.  He would even grab onto me with all four of his paws and hold onto my arm while I did that, which was adorable.  Not even a full day together and we had an inseparable bond.  I was told that pets bond with the person that does the actual rescuing from the shelter.  Since that was me, he bonded with me instantly.  That bond lasted for the rest of his life.  

That night Tyler ate his dinner (fancy feast) in the kitchen with us.  As a family.  I was smiling so much my cheeks hurt. We timed it so he would eat when we would eat, and it was adorable.  The sliding glass door to the backyard and pool was off the kitchen, so that evening, following his dinner, he sat on the rug by that door, cleaned his face with his paw (I love when cats do that) and watched the world go by.  That became his nightly routine.  Dinner. Clean face. Watch world.  I loved to just sit and watch him.  What was he thinking? What was he staring at? Was he happy?  Did he like his home?  

It felt like he had always been one of the family.

That evening, just as I was watching TV in bed, there was a meow and light scratch at my door.  There he was, Tyler wanted in.  Who was I to say no?  I got back in bed and let him wander around, not knowing what to expect. 

Ten minutes later, Tyler jumped on the bed and walked onto my chest and sat down, staring right at me. Eyes half shut, a usual sign of relaxation.

“Hello little boy. How can I help you?”

Chirp. 

Head-but.

Purr. 

I was so happy I could cry.  I kissed his head and he curled up next to me.  I put an arm around him and we fell asleep that way. 

My cat and me.