We buried him in the back Yard!

I never liked cats. You could probably say that I hated cats. In fact, I always thought that the only good cat was a dead cat.

Cats pooped in my flower beds. Cats killed birds in my yard. Cats walked on my car and left paw prints. I hated everything about cats. I used to plink at cats in my yard with a (low power) B.B. pistol. It wouldn't really hurt them, but it scared the crap out of them.

About 4 1/2 years ago, on a fine late March or early April day, an interesting thing happened. I walked out into my shed, where I did a bit of woodworking, and when I opened the door, a black cat ran out of one of my cabinets, jumped up on my bench, and jumped out of the open window. I thought "STUPID CAT!"

A while later, I returned to the shed, just in time to see the same cat jump IN the window and dash into the same cabinet. Being the cat "lover” that I am, I slammed the cabinet shut.

I devised a plan. I closed the window, retrieved the B.B. pistol from the house, returned to the shed and closed the door behind me. My plan was to open the cabinet allowing the cat to escape. I expected the cat to attempt to leave via the window, which I had closed. This would confuse the cat, and allow me the opportunity to "Plink" the cat at least once, if not several times, before letting it escape through the door, hopefully to never return.

I jerked the cabinet door open and stepped back, readying the shot! Nothing happened. No cat. Why isn't the darn cat coming out? Stupid cat! I grabbed a nearby flashlight and shined it into the cabinet. HISSSSSS! The only reply.

Closer investigation revealed "MOM" and 3 kittens, newly born. I think I probably dropped the B.B. pistol like a hot potato.  I didn't like cats, but I'm not heartless.

We kept an eye on the Mom and kittens but left them their space. I think we provided fresh water in the shed for the Mom, and of course I opened the window so she could get out and eat. Over the next few days or so, we named the 3 kittens, NOT that we would keep any of them, but just so we knew who was who as we talked about them. We named the smallest one, a grey tabby, "Lil' Bit," as he was the smallest. The second, we named "Big ears” and the third we named...I forget. No, I Forget was not the kitten's name! I just mean I forget what we named it. (Who's on first?)

Within a short time, "I forget," (might as well call it that now,) disappeared. Big ears and Lil' Bit stayed around for a while together, then after several weeks, Big ears disappeared too. Lil' Bit seemed to just hang out around the yard. We'd see him now and then, but he wasn't our cat, so he was just on his own. (By the way, no one in the neighborhood ever claimed ownership of the cat or kittens, and believe me, I tried to locate them.)

Somewhere along the line, I guess we started feeding Lil' Bit, and he sort of took up residence in, or around my shop. We never really laid any claim to him and he certainly never tried to be friends with us, as if any cat would ever do that!

Well, sometime in the fall, I went into the shed and, yep, you guessed it. Mom is back with 3 new kittens. I'm thinking, "STUPID CAT!" I STILL hate cats, but not as much. (I'll keep this part short.) About 6 weeks later, when the kittens are weaned, I collect Mom, and new kittens #1, #2 and #3 (I refused to name them this time,) and carted them all off to the SPCA shelter. Yes, I also made a donation! It stinks to have to pay to get rid of animals that aren't even yours.

O.K., if you remember where we were, there is still one cat hanging around. 

In February, I once again step into my shed, and on a top storage shelf, curled up on some cushions, is Lil' Bit.  He won't leave.  I finally realize that something is wrong with him.  I climb up to the top shelf and see that he is injured. He's been in a fight or something. One leg is damaged, swollen and infected.  Remember that up until this point, we have had virtually no physical contact with this animal, and he is NOT too happy.

I don't recall exactly how I got him down, but we cart the cat off to the vet. No major damage or broken bones, but there is a bad infection. So, "Mr. Cat Hater" forks over some big bucks to get this stupid cat repaired.

I'm not sure how we made the decision, except that once we paid to repair the cat, I guess we decided that we had a vested interest in this "stupid cat." Besides which, the vet said to keep it inside until it healed. I guess we more or less adopted the cat. We figured that after he healed and we let him back out, he would take off, but we were wrong. He just seemed to stick around and he would come to the door when he was hungry and we'd feed him. He slowly turned into an "Indoor / outdoor" cat and somewhere along the line, we decided that if we were keeping him as a pet, we would do the responsible thing and get him "Fixed."

Fast forward!  Lil' Bit is now about 2 years old and we move from North Charleston to Goose Creek. After living in the Charleston area for over 25 years, we finally bought a house. During the cross-town move, my wife and I came over to the new house to clean and to start the move-in process. After several days of cleaning and unpacking, we decided that it was a good time to bring Lil' Bit over to get familiar with the new house. Since he is an indoor / outdoor cat, we were a little worried about how well he would adapt. We decided to keep him in the house for the first several days so he could adjust before we let him outside.

The very first day was almost a disaster! I opened the door to the attic to take some things up and the stupid cat runs up the stairs, and immediately dives into a tiny space along the roof rafters. I tried to grab him, but to no avail. I go find a flashlight and look into this small space and all I can see are the hollow spaces between the walls. No cat! Now I'm really worried, because all that I can think of is ripping out walls in the new house trying to rescue the stupid cat. I'm only hoping that I don't have to locate the cat by "Dead cat smell." 

We had to leave the new house and go back to the old house again, and all we could do was wait out the cat. For one reason or another, I ended up back at the new house late that evening. I kept hearing a cat meowing, but it was only the neighbor cat out front. I did whatever it was that I had to do there and before I left again for the night, I opened the attic door once again. There, sitting at the top of the steps, was Lil' Bit. What a relief!

Now for the real story.

Lil' bit adapted to the move much better than we had anticipated, and soon had the run of the neighborhood. Before you accuse me of being a bad pet owner, I should explain that Lil' Bit really was a homebody. He never ran all over the neighborhood. He rarely strayed from our yard, and unlike most cats, would usually come when you called for him.  (I've heard it said that Dogs come when you call them...but Cats have answering machines.)  Anyway, we really grew to love this cat, even though he had the usual cat tendency toward aloofness. Lil' Bit would usually come in the house in the evening and curl up on the end of the couch on his favorite towel. He was never the type to sit in your lap and let you pet him though. Often he would curl up at the foot of the bed between my feet after I got into bed. He really was a good cat.

Lil' Bit would occasionally disappear for a day or two, though we were confident that he was nearby. We never really worried about him too much. On this particular occasion, he had been out of sight for a couple of days. I came home from work and my wife greeted me...In TEARS! I asked "What's wrong?"  Her reply was something like "There's a dead cat in the side yard, and I think it's Lil' Bit!" This was said through tears and uncontrollable sobs.

I went to look at the dead cat.  It had rained the night before and this was a very wet, very mangled cat. I said, "I'm not sure, but it looks like Lil' Bit." The longer I looked at it, the more convinced I became that this was, in fact, our cat.

We have a fenced back yard, and Lil' Bit loved to go out behind the fence, along the ditch, and hunt critters. I though that this would be the perfect place to bury our cat. I got out the shovel and started to dig the grave. It was back-breaking work due to all of the tree roots and the clay soil. I had to resort to using a pick along with the shovel, just to get the hole large enough for a 12 pound cat. I wanted it deep enough so that it wouldn't be disturbed by critters out for revenge. As I'm digging, I realize that I, in fact, did love this stupid cat, and I'm crying too.  (Bawling actually!) Maybe for the cat. Maybe for my wife, I don't know.

I couldn't just drop Lil' Bit into a hole, and my wife suggested that I wrap him in his favorite towel. I retrieve the towel from the house and gingerly wrap "Lil' Bit" in the towel. This was no easy task, since he was rather stiff by now. I carried him to the grave-site, and tried to place him in the hole. Too small. I had to dig a larger hole. Finally, when the hole was large enough to get him into, without bending him, "Lil' Bit" was laid to rest.  I carefully replaced all the dirt, trying not to have to stomp it into place. I covered the area with leaves from the surrounding area. "Lil' Bit" would be at peace here, in the back yard.

Our back yard has a small shed in it where I keep the mower and yard tools. Leaning against the shed is a small boat that I’m supposed to use to fish from, but it was one of Lil' Bit's favorite places to lounge. He would crawl under the boat and sleep. As I walked back to the house, having properly buried "Lil' Bit," I couldn't help but look over at one of his favorite places, as if by magic, he might be there. And he was! He looked at me as if to say, "What in the world are you doing?" I called my wife out of the house and pointed at the boat. I don't think that the two of us have ever laughed so hard.

I also don't think that we ever loved that stupid cat any more than we did at that moment either.