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03.28.2008 :: 87. F is for Fig

~Click to see big mosaic~
There once was a time when we had a menagerie of small pets. No cats, though. I was not a cat person. We did have a parakeet named Ernie,who looked like this:

This was the days before digital cameras and I probably have an actual picture of Ernie somewhere, but that would entail hours of going through picture boxes and frankly, I'm overwhelmed thinking about it! So, let's just make believe this is the real Ernie.
And we had a hamster named Bert. (Can you guess about how old the kids were when we got them? Hmm?)You can see what Bert looked like HERE.
So, Ernie liked to fly out of his cage. He liked to land on our shoulders. He liked to eat cheez-its and popcorn and ice cream, oddly enough. Sometimes he liked to bite ears, but that's not for this story. Somewhere along the line, a little friendship budded between Ernie and Bert. Ernie liked to sit on Bert's cage and give his call "TWEET TWEET" meaning, of course, "Come on out, Bert!" And Bert would. Come out of his little sleeping house and push his face right into the bars of his cage and Ernie would stick his beak into the cage and scratch Bert's head. I kid you not. It was a sight to see, I'll tell you.
Bert being part of this story is for pure entertainment value only. He was gone before Fig came into the picture. Ernie sure did miss Bert when he was gone. It was quite touching.
Back to Fig.
One day my neighbor showed up on my doorstep with a bowl, some cat food and a water dish. She told me that her family needed to leave their apartment for a month so it could be deleaded for her kids sake. She wanted us to leave food on the porch for the cats. They would live outside, being June and be no bother. What could I say? I didn't want her kids to get lead poisoning. But I did not want 2 cats. There were 2 cats. Fig and Rocky. Rocky was a 13 year old long haired orange and white sweetie. And Fig was a 1 year old kitten. Rambunctious and raring to go. I had never ever had a cat. Or thought about having a cat. So, now we had 2 confused cats living on our porch. The month came and went. The neighbor brought another bag of food and said it would be a couple weeks more, but she was definitely coming back. They weren't my cats yet, I was just catsitting. On the porch.
Then it turned to fall. And the nights started to get chilly and there was no sign of the neighbor. So, we would put the cats into the basement at night. Sure, it's not great down there, but it's better than outside, right? I mean, the neighbor will be back anytime for her cats. Right?
Every now and then the cats would come into the house, but we'd have to be extra sure that Ernie wasn't out flying around because, well, didn't cats like birds? I mean, especially to EAT?
In October, Rocky got very ill and I brought her to the veterinarian down the street from me. The neighbor had told me that she brought the cats there. They told me that they had no record of the cats ever being there. This was my first inkling that perhaps the neighbor was not ever going to come back. I know, most people would have gotten it by now. But not me. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, long after, even then they deserve it!
So, Poor, sweet Rocky had kidney failure. And incidentally, a tumor under her tongue that was most likely cancerous. We made the difficult decision to put Rocky to sleep so she would not suffer anymore. Because suffering she was. She died without ever seeing her owner of 13 years again. That should be a crime, don't you think? On the way out, I made an appointment for Fig. He obviously needed his shots and to be neutered.
But he did stay in the basement in the evenings until his appointment the next week. When he came home from his :ahem: little operation he was so pathetic looking. Andy and I had a long talk, after we put Fig on the couch to sleep off the anesthesia. We had to give him the loving home he deserved or find a home for him. We glanced over at the cat sleeping there and decided we'd keep him. He was kinda cute. And he was good with the kids.
He never again slept in the basement. Believe me when I say that it wasn't long until he was sleeping on the beds. But I digress.
One day, one of us was leaving the house, not noticing that Fig slipped in the door unbeknownst to any of us leaving. Ernie stayed out of his cage during the day, with the door propped open if he wanted back in. Our foolproof plan had been foiled. For a whole week and a half we had been careful.
Cat in: Bird in
Cat out: Bird out
This time
Cat in: Bird out.
I opened the door about an hour later and Ernie was lying on the floor of the hallway, weakly chirping at me. Fig was sitting down the hall with a look of, well, there's no better way to describe it: Like he had just ate the canary. And he had. I picked Poor Frightened Ernie up and lay him on a towel, looked him over. There were no obvious injuries. We brought him down to the vets office and they pronounced him okay. No broken bones, no gaping wounds, which is a miracle, is it not? I have seen birdies in the yarn that Fig has eaten for appetizers. And it was not pretty. Fig had really just PLAYED with Ernie. So, when I say that he ate our parakeet, it was figuratively, not literally.
Sometime that night, I heard Ernie's bell ring one last time. He had most likely hit his favorite toy on his way down. Poor little thing probably died of fright. There was a funeral. And more than a few tears.
But looking at Fig, I knew he did not mean it. I knew it was just what cats did. If he had wanted to hurt Ernie, he would have. But he only played with him a bit. He did not know that Ernie could not take it.
We forgave. And we even got another bird. Tweety. He was a blue parakeet. But he did NOT come out of his cage. Ever.
That was our last bird.
Bert the second was our last hamster too. When he was dying, Fig lay vigil next to his cage until he had gone. I wondered how Fig knew that Bert needed someone.
Fig has also outlasted Mac the turtle and the unnamed goldfish that lived for years and years.
I think we'll keep him.
(Reprinted from earlier blog entry because the story stands as one that cannot be added to)
Posted by Sandy on 03.28.2008 AT 04:25 PM
Comments
A fine Fig of a cat.
Posted by: claudia on 03.30.2008 AT 10:47 PM
Fig is so handsome. That is still an amazing story
Posted by: paula on 03.30.2008 AT 08:26 PM
Fig
So beautiful
As for Ernie, have I told you my Ernie lived for 13 years! He was named after Chicago Cubs player Ernie Banks,. Number 13 I kid you not!
Posted by: kathy b on 03.29.2008 AT 05:08 PM
Fig is my favorite cat ever.
Posted by: Kim on 03.29.2008 AT 09:55 AM
Fig could have his own calender of glamor shots.
What a saga! I love a purry ending!
Posted by: Barbara-Kay on 03.29.2008 AT 08:03 AM
I love your Fig story.
Posted by: Carole on 03.29.2008 AT 07:51 AM
Oh, what a great post! Fig is a beauty, and his story makes him all the more special.
Posted by: Nora on 03.29.2008 AT 06:52 AM
Being a cat Fig surely takes it for granted that he's found such an understanding home but I know how lucky he is.
Posted by: Julie on 03.29.2008 AT 06:08 AM
Ohhhh... Those critters, they really do make themselves at home in your heart, don't they?
Posted by: Anne on 03.29.2008 AT 02:14 AM
Oh, Sandy.
Please skritch that boy under the chin for me. I do miss me a kitteh 'round the place.
Lucky, photogenic Fig.
Posted by: kt on 03.29.2008 AT 12:23 AM
Fig has to be one of the luckiest cats alive to have found such a warm, thoughtful, forgiving family. I hope you and he nurture each other for some time to come.
Posted by: Luise on 03.28.2008 AT 09:43 PM
What a handsome boy he is! I think I read the original story once before, but getting to read it again was such a treat! I'm so sorry about Ernie, but you're right, Fig was only doing what cats are hardwired to do.
Posted by: chris on 03.28.2008 AT 09:03 PM
I'm so glad you reprinted this. This is a very worthy F post. Love that Fig.
Posted by: Norma on 03.28.2008 AT 06:04 PM
I love you so much, my Sandy. You are such a good, kind and trusting soul. I'm so glad that Fig found safe harbor in your family.
Oh, and I think I just hurt myself laughing. ♥
Posted by: Cookie on 03.28.2008 AT 05:50 PM
An excellent F! And an excellent cat story, from one that has had cats, and hamsters and fist and hermit crabs...no birds, but some untimely endings, nonetheless. Give Fig a scratch.
Posted by: Becky on 03.31.2008 AT 07:29 PM