I had adopted a cute little black cat named Mesha. It was an adoption day at a vet clinic where people brought their pets who needed new homes where they could interview and hand select the person who would take their pet. Mesha needed a new home due to bad allergies and too many cats in the house.
I took her home after assuring Mesha's mom that I would be sure to contact her to give Mesha back if I ever needed to give her up. It went fine at first, but then Mesha started spraying. After taking her to the vet and eliminating any physical issues, I realized that she just wasn't happy at her new home with my then boyfriend's cat (who was a wonderful cat - just not her family, I guess) and wound up calling to let her know that I thought Mesha just wasn't happy and wanted to go home. We made the arrangements for me to bring Mesha back.
When I arrived with Mesha the conversation turned to whether I was interested in another cat as her neighbor had one kitten left from a litter who needed a home. I told her I might be in the market for another cat so, sure, bring the kitten over and I'll see what he's like. She gave her neighbor lady a call and, luckily, she was home and happy to bring the kitten over.
Neighbor lady showed up with the cutest, most friendly and energetic orange tabby kitty I had ever met. He was adorable! I called the boyfriend (since we shared a residence) to ask if he'd mind if I took the kitten home. I got the OK, and was on my way home with a "replacement" kitty. I still remember that drive like it was yesterday. I drove home (about 30 miles or so) with a little orange kitty bouncing back and forth from the back window ledge, the front passenger seat, front dashboard and the back of my seat and shoulder singing a steady chorus of various meows.
After a fairly long deliberation, he was named Tasman. We decided his personality was so energetic - downright crazy at times - that he was like the Tazmanian Devil cartoon character so the name seemed fitting. I didn't want to name him "Taz" though because that seemed somewhat common/not unique as the trend at the time seemed to be naming dogs Taz. So I decided on a slight variation - you know, to be different. ;) (I later learned the poor guy had ear mites, which were possibly a big part of the cause of the "craziness", and were treated promptly before any physical damage was done to his ears. Whew!)
His energy and enthusiasm weren't totally stifled though with the elimination of the pests though. He loved to climb things - bookshelves, the brick chimney on the side of the house, trees, and people. Yes, on a number of occasions he literally climbed me and my mom - ran right up our legs to hop on our chest or shoulders! He also liked to lie on his back on my legs with his head at my knees and launch himself off me by using my stomach as a jumping off point. I must have saved him from a broken neck several times!
He also loved to travel. Most people marveled at how he seemed to actually like to ride in my canvas bag to go to the boyfriend's place (after I moved back home). I soon learned that he needed to be restrained in the car due to his interest in running around down by my feet and hopping on my lap and sticking his head through the steering wheel! Not very safe, admittedly...
Amazing how a chance encounter with a cute little kitty would turn into 16 wonderful years. I loved him more than words could express - still do. Back when I thought I would have kids, I would tell him not to worry - that he would always be my "first born." I know some might think that sounds crazy or something, but he was my baby - the closest thing to a child that I will probably ever have. He made my life so much richer just by existing. I just have to keep thinking about and remembering all of the happy times and not beat myself up for the last five days of his life he spent at the vet clinic.
Like the song says, he was my sunshine.
During one of my hysterical sobbing spells SH assured me that Tas knew how much I loved him.
I hope he was right.
XOXO Forever, my little Pooky Bear.
