Missing Putty

I loved my cat. He was 20 years old when he died and his name was "Putty". He became mine when I was 11. I have never felt a love like this for any other animal. He was a black beauty with fur as silky as a spider's web. His eyes were deeper than emerald. I loved my cat.

I remember when he was born. I lived in a town in Queens at the time but my parent's owned a home in a town in South New Jersey. We were there for the last weekend in October and I was very upset that I was missing Halloween with my friends. I wanted to be a ballerina with a bright pink tutu because I had just started dancing school. I liked to pretend I was a beautiful swan dancing on the stage for some fictional ballet company that I imagined I would own. My audience always threw the most beautiful bouquets of red and yellow roses. My other ballerina friends would be performing without me that weekend. My entire sixth grade world was ending.

In our NJ home, my dad called me into the room where "Momma Cat" was waiting patiently for her brood to be born. After three stillborn babies, there was Putty. He was so small you could fit him into a three year old's palm. His back was contorted as if he was twisted into a spiral and his black fur was wet with the remnants of his mother. He was the sole survivor. He was mine. I promised to care for him until the day I died.

My life changed that day. I was so sad for missing my universally brilliant performance of Swan Lake. However, my new baby was here. He needed me. I was to be his new mother because his birth mother denied him of her love. I felt on top of the world. There was not a standing ovation that could take the place of this event. But I was scared. I was needed by someone to keep alive. What if I failed? Could I ever forgive myself if I allowed this beautiful boy to die? I was on a mission of love. I fed him with an eyedropper. I rubbed his belly to help him digest when he was finished eating. I cleaned him until his fur sparkled like diamonds. He was mine. I was his. We needed each other then. We needed each other always.

After 20 years of loving Putty, I can not imagine how I could have survived my teens and twenties without him. He was there to comfort me. He heard me cry and complain. He shared my pain. He took part in the joys of my life and he will be a part of me forever. Putty was very old. His bones began to creak when he walked. He did not eat like he used to. He had renal failure and blood issues. He got tired and weak and some days he just was not the same.

Never did I think that missing Halloween that year would be the most important thing that could happen to me. I was selfish to think that my life was over for some make-believe fun. I guess that is being a sixth grader. I learned a valuable lesson that day. When circumstances are shuffled and priorities are changed, life seems unstable. Even as children we should learn to stop and take life as it comes. We may find something wonderful out of the mess that we thought was made. I did. I found Putty.

Happy 23rd birthday Pud. I miss you.