My family has pretty much always had pet cats. The first cat that I knew was part of the family before I was, and he died of cancer when I was young. I don't have any memory of him except for pictures of me with him. My next cat we had for a few short years. My only memory of him is of coming home from Beavers in Dad's truck, and Dad telling me that he had been run over. I cried all the way home. My next cat made the journey with us from Shellbrook to Assiniboia but disappeared shortly after we arrived there.
After our last cat disappeared/ran away/got run over, we figured we had had enough and it was time to have an indoor cat instead of an outdoor cat. We ended up getting two cats (highly recommended - less maintenance than just one because they keep each other company) from the shelter in Regina in the summer of 1992, with plans to de-claw them and keep them indoors and not to let them outside unless they had a leash. My sister and I each got to choose one. I choose one and named him Bonkers, for reasons that completely escape me. I imagine I had seen a favourite candy of mine of the same name some time earlier in the day. Hali chose his brother and named him Max. They were two cats out of a litter of six.
Today, that litter got one member smaller. Bonkers spent the last week or so at the vet in Maple Creek, and over the last few days it became clear that a number of smaller medical issues coupled with his advanced age meant a larger problem for Bonkers. In the end, to continue down the treatment path for him would have meant a number of invasive procedures that he didn't deserve to go through after his long and happy life. My mother, my sister, and I travelled to Maple Creek last night. Our family went to vet this morning for one last visit and made the difficult decision not to continue with treatment. I very much appreciate the good people at Maple Creek Veterinary Services for the care and love they showed Bonkers and our family, especially in his final hours.
My first memory of Bonkers is seeing him asleep in the back of the cage while the other kittens in the cage were all at the front pawing at the cage door. I wanted to pick the laziest, most docile cat I could find (so that he wouldn't run away), and I found him in Bonkers. We took them to my Auntie Cathy's house and played with them in their living room. Bonkers and Max were both kittens, and both could fit (at the same time) in the palm of my hand.
"Bonks" has been a part of our family since pretty much my earliest memories. Since we got Bonkers, I've lived in different towns, gone to different schools, worked different jobs - I find it hard to remember a time when he wasn't there. When I think of the time we spent together, most often I recall when I was in university living in my parents' basement. He used to come down and visit all the time and when I picture him in my mind that's when we are together. I can't say why, but it is what it is.
Bonkers keeping me company during a long chat session
Bonkers was the best cat I could have asked for. He was always warm and friendly and got along good with everyone he met. He was always there for me. No matter what mistakes I made that day or what amazing things I had accomplished, it didn't matter to him. He was there, he was happy, and he made me happy. Most pet owners will say their pet was the best, but Bonkers really was different. He really was the perfect cat. Think of all the annoying things a cat might do, like destroy furniture, knock things over, meow loudly and incessantly - Bonkers didn't do it. He couldn't physically meow. Over his lifetime he did eventually manage a quiet, meow-like sound, but that was about it. He was always friendly and calm. I'm no veterinarian and don't know if this is even possible, but I'm quite sure he was mentally challenged. He really just ate, ran around, slept, and purred if you petted him. If he was really happy, a little bit of drool would escape the corners of his mouth. For all intents and purposes, he was literally a living teddy bear who could recognize you, and we loved him for it.
I cannot express how I feel at the moment, but I've felt this way before. The first time I ever really, truly prayed to God was when Bonkers got lost for a few days when we were camping in Cypress Hills. The last time I truly prayed was last night, praying for a miracle. It didn't happen, but I am so thankful for the miracle that was the time I spent with my favourite cat in the world.
My last memory of Bonkers is from today, leaving him exactly as I found him seventeen years ago - laying down with his back turned to me. Laying down in peace.
None of my memories of Bonkers would have been possible without my parents. Although he was "my" cat and like any child I had promised to do all the cat related chores, it wasn't long before my folks assumed responsibility for feeding and taking care of them. When I moved away from home, he was really my cat in name only. Through an enormous amount of time, money, and effort on their part, I was proud to tell anyone who would listen about "my" cat. I am so grateful.
If there is one lesson to be learned in all this, for me, it's to enjoy people and pets and activities and things that are special to you while you can. No one ever says at their death bed, "I wish I could have worked more." I wish I had spent more time with Bonkers, especially in his final years. 17 years is a very long time. 17 years is not very much time.
What the writers of one of my favourite television programs may have written in jest, I say with conviction: though you were not sentient, Bonkers, and did not comprehend, I nonetheless considered you a true and valued friend.
I miss you so much :'(