Me And My Shadow

I remember those first few nights when I rushed home from my shift at Mick’s Bennett Street, as restaurant in Atlanta, GA. It was late, and it had been long hours, but I was too excited to be tired.  I was excited to see my new little companion, who was waiting for me at home.  Well, actually….hiding from me at home.

Someone found him on the back docks of the restaurant, alone and hungry.  When they called me to see him, he was eagerly devouring the French fries one of the delivery guys had sprinkled on the ground for him.  His little tail was bent at an unnatural angle and his little kitten mew was as endearing as his tiny round face and sparkling green eyes.  “You should take him home,” Brandy suggested.  Everyone knew that I had been thinking of getting a cat. A little while before, I received an “IOU a kitten” Christmas card from my friend Mark.  I guess it was difficult to find kittens during the holidays.  But, this one had found us.  Now faced with the opportunity, I was a little afraid.  What if he didn’t like me? What if I didn’t know how to take care of him? I agreed anyway, and Operation Kitty Cat was under way.

I still had quite a few hours left on my shift, so Wendy, the kitchen manager, and my friend Brandy agreed to take him home for me.  First, they would need to get supplies.  It took a group effort for us to smuggle him into the restaurant and into the manager’s office, where he would stay until they returned to ferry him to my nearby apartment.  I split my time between being in the dining room, where I was supposed to be, and watching him with wonder.

Hours later, I entered my own apartment with trepidation.  I lived alone at the time, but he had been there on his own for the first time.  Brandy and Wendy had set up a tiny litter box for me, with tiny food and water bowls for my tiny new friend. The small crumbs of cat food on the floor near the bowl let me know that he had been there.  But where was he?  I finally spotted his tiny head beneath the arm chair.  I reached for him, but he retreated further, beyond my reach.  I didn’t want to force it. 

So it was, for the first couple of days.  I looked for the tell-tale signs that he was eating, drinking and pooping as he should, and he hid from me, not knowing what to make of me or his new surroundings.  When he did come out, he approached me suspiciously, and ran when I tried to coax him with treats and toys. He was having none of it. 

Finally, on a day that I was feeling particularly lonely, I sang to him.  I don’t know if it was the magic of Disney, or if he really wanted to shut me up, but he came closer than before.  I stroked him gently, and scooped him up to the sofa.  He now knew that coming closer would give him the advantage of a belly rub, and we now began to bond. However, he still didn’t have a name.

For the next couple of days, I jotted down possible monikers and ran them by co-workers, friends, and even the cat himself. He was a black and white tuxedo cat so I considered Sylvester and Felix and, of course, I rejected them.  Then there were Prince, Lestat, Pywacket, Salem - but none of them seemed true. 

Now, since our bonding began, I would come home to find the little fellow waiting for me. Our relationship had done a complete 180.  He followed me around the apartment like an invisible string attached us, meowing non-stop.  In the beginning, he was a very talkative little fellow and, of course, I talked back.  I would ask him about his day, and tell him about mine.  I sometimes worried that the neighbors might complain, but they never did.

On another of those nights where I felt particularly lonely, I came home, and he was again waiting for me as he would be for years to come. I scooped him up into my arms and began to sing a different tune…”When I climb the stairs, I never knock, ‘cause nobody’s there. Just me, and my…..” And, my little baby was named. His name was Shadow.

We had many great years together, but it was not always song and dance and conversation.  The first time he fell ill, he collapsed in front of me as I returned home from another long shift. It was a Wednesday night.  I rushed him to Pets are People Too at 1510 Piedmont Avenue in Atlanta, where I learned he had feline diabetes.  I didn’t have the money for the hospital stay or the treatment.  My good friend Shannon told me I should ask our boss, Brad for and advance. 

When I approached him, he sat me down and spoke to me seriously.  “You know I have dogs and that I’m a serious animal lover,” he told me.  “I want you to think about it."  He told me he would be happy to advance me the money, but I had to make sure that I could bring Shadow home, healthy and happy, as opposed to putting money into something that would prolong his agony and not do much to help him at all.

At the animal hospital, I had been given the option of laying him to rest. It was such a hard decision to make.  When I visited him, it broke my heart.  His little tuxedo had been shaved in places and he was partially blind. He was so thin and weak, that he almost looked like a different cat.   The doctor carried him in and explained the treatment he had received.  He was on fluids, but he still had not eaten.  “Try to get him to eat something,” she said, as she left us alone in the exam room. 

I reached out to my Shadow, and I could tell he recognized me.  It took all of my effort not to sweep his frail little body up into my arms.  He jerked himself up on the table and pulled himself toward me.  As he began to eat from my hand, I knew that there was no way I could ever let him go. I think that’s when I knew he loved me. In that moment, he told me that if I took care of him, he’d take care of me.

I told Brad that I was confident it would work.  It did.  Shadow came home and he took his insulin shots like a champ.  In a couple of years, he would become ill again.  This time, he was restricted to a diet of wet food, but he marched on.

Shadow was there for the good times, the bad times and all the times in between.  We shared three zip codes, six apartments, and countless roommates.  More importantly, we shared a life.

In the wee hours of the morning, on December 15, 2013, Shadow took his final rest.  I will forever be grateful for the 16 years we spent together. I can only hope that I gave him as much love and happiness as he gave to me.

Many of my friends understand that pets are not just a diversion, or something to own.  They are companions, and friends and family.  They have little minds and imaginations and emotions. Those doctors and nurses in Atlanta got it right, pets really ARE people too. 

Cheers,

Ceddy