Good-Bye, My Sweet Clyde

Our animal friends bring so much joy into our lives, but along with it there can be such great sorrow. After two years of battling to keep him alive and with me, two days ago I had to say my final good-bye to my sweet kitty Clyde. It was an excruciating decision to have him put to sleep and relieve his chronic suffering. I held him in my lap, stroked and kissed him, as his amazing spirit peacefully left his body and moved on to the next world.

The past couple mornings, I woke up and looked around for Clyde. Over the past thirteen years, he’s always slept with me, often on me. There have only been a handful of times I haven’t awoken to feel his warm body lying as close to me as possible (he was my back warmer on cold winter nights). Then I remembered and cried once again.

I so dearly loved my sweet Clyde. He was such special, intelligent, funny, creative, joyful, and completely loving being. He often made me laugh and sometimes frustrated me too, but life with Clyde was always entertaining and I miss him so much. I wanted to share a few of the things I will always love and remember about our too short time together.

Clyde was my baby… I found Clyde and his sister, Bonnie, as four-week-old kittens. Someone had put them in a box and left it on the road. As I drove around the box, I noticed a pair of tiny black ear tips sticking out of the top. I pulled over and went back to find two tiny, black and white, and poop-covered kittens. It was a very warm day and the box was in the direct sun, and God only knows how long they were out there. Clyde was still weakly trying to escape the box; Bonnie wasn’t moving much at all. I knew they needed medical attention, ASAP. So I rushed them to my vet. He said they were very young, dehydrated, underweight, and anemic from flea and worm infestations. He thought their chance of survival was pretty low, but we decided to try and save them. Amazingly after a few days of fluids, food, meds and TLC, they were both better and ready to come home. I named them Bonnie and Clyde because they were tough and resilient, and, as I immediately learned, they liked to get into trouble together.

Since they weren’t completely weaned and needed to put on weight, I had to bottle-feed them, every four hours, for the first couple of weeks. I’d rush home at lunch, and then get up in the middle of the night, and early in the morning to feed them. They both gained weight and grew to be healthy, happy kittens. Their job was to grow, play, explore the house, and then fall asleep in a little pile on my lap or next to me. All my cats want to spend time with me, when they want to, but Clyde was my Velcro kitty, he always wanted to be next to or on me.

Clyde grew into a large and healthy cat, fourteen pounds of pure black and white

sweetness.

He wasn’t fat; he was a big cat, he was bigger than Jesse James (my dog, not the motorcycle guy). Until he got sick, Clyde was an outgoing, happy boy, who never had a bad day, never fought with the other cats, and never took a swipe at Jesse, which all the other cats did occasionally. Clyde loved everyone; people, other cats, the rabbit, and even friendly dogs.

He would go out, meet other kitty friends, and invite them home for dinner. Of course, the other cats weren’t quite so welcoming, so Clyde’s friends didn’t hang out for long. Sometimes, he would go out for walks in the neighborhood with Jesse and me. We’d be walking along and I’d turn around to see Clyde right there walking along behind us.

When I would come home, even after being gone for only a few minutes, Clyde would be waiting at the door to greet me. If he saw me packing a suitcase, he knew I would be gone at least overnight. He seemed to really hate for me to be away overnight. He would continuously climb into the suitcase and I’d have to keep removing him to add something. I think it was his way of telling me he didn’t want me to leave him. When I would return from my trip, he was even more of a Velcro kitty than usual, following me everywhere for almost as long as I’d been gone.

Clyde was a practical joker and he loved to scare/annoy his fellow housemates, including me. For instance, he relished hiding, and then jumping out at his chosen victim. When he was able to startle him or her, he would be so happy. He would proudly walk away, tail straight up, glance over his shoulder and shoot a look that said, “Got you again… Ha. Ha.”

Clyde was also a little thief. One of his favorite things to do was to steal little things and hide them. I’d be cleaning and discover his stash behind or under a piece of furniture, a closet corner, even in the fireplace. Of course, once I found his hiding place, he found a new one. Over time he got very creative about it too. When I found one of his hidden treasure spots, it would contain all kinds of things like: one earring (he’d always leave the other in it’s place), necklaces, bracelets, rings (he liked jewelry and I learned not to leave it out), balls of aluminum foil, cat toys, dog toys, corks, combs, bully sticks, hair ties, nail files, bottle caps, sticks, pieces of wire, ear buds, kitty collars, etc. If he could carry it, he might stash it.

Once, Clyde stole my watch, I looked everywhere I could think of and couldn’t find it. That evening I walked into my bedroom and I heard the watch alarm. For some reason, which I no longer remember, I had the alarm set to go at a certain time

each evening. By the time I realized what it was, the alarm stopped and I only had a general idea of its location. So I started looking in that area and still couldn’t find the watch. Finally, after waiting for it to go off a couple more of times, I was able to locate the sound and the watch, along with a couple other treasures. Clyde had pulled a large hardcover book ever so slightly forward, from the bottom of the book shelf/TV stand. Then, considering the space, he had to have used his paw to push his finds into the small space he’d created behind the book. I think that displayed his wonderful intelligence. He was always thinking, you could see it in his eyes.

For a short while I tried to get the cats to wear collars, but Clyde hated them. Not only did he refuse to wear a collar, he wouldn’t let the other cats wear them either. I would buy new collars, put them on each cat and within days they would disappear, one by one. Occasionally I would find a collar in one of his hidey-holes, but most of them went completely missing. Finally I witnessed what had happened to them. I hid in the house, the cats were in the yard, and watched as Clyde reached out, snagged Ginny’s collar with his paw and pulled it off over her head. Then he promptly took it to the rose bed and buried it. Over time I found most of the collars, buried here and there in the yard and potted plants. Needless to say, I gave up on the cat collars.

I have so many more memories of my sweet Clyde and I will cherish them all, along with the time God gave us to love each other.

Good-bye, my sweet Clyde, until we meet again…