Big Boy: The Cat Who Saved Himself, Then Named Himself
By: Toni Crowe
Tags: Happiness, Cats, Pets, Short Story, Love

Big Boy: The Cat Who Saved Himself, Then Named Himself

“What greater gift than the love of a cat?” — Charles Dickens

Image by Toni Crowe

My favorite cat was Big Boy. He picked me to save him.

Me and my spouse were dropping off cat food, cat treats, dog food and towels at the local shelter. The attendant asked me if I would bring the cat food and treats back to the cat room as she would pass out the treats immediately. I followed her to the cat room.

We stood near the cat cages as she loaded the treat containers. I felt a paw tap me on the shoulder. I turned around to see a cage with a big red X on it. In the cage was a black ball of stinky, smelly, matted dirt with bright blue eyes. The cat stuck his paw out and tapped me.

The attendant looked puzzled.

“That is one mean cat,” she said. “He doesn’t like anyone. He is so disagreeable that he hasn’t had a bath, no one can hold him. No one will adopt him. We figure he has been on his own for a very long time. He has been marked to be put down.”

“The cat is irredeemable?” I asked as the grimy cat tapped me on the shoulder again and meowed to get my attention.

She waved at me to move aside. As she moved toward the cage, the dirtball hissed and backed up. He made the classic ‘I’m pissed’ cat bow with his back. The closer she got the more upset the cat appeared. It was furious.

I walked back over to the cage and stood there. The cat stopped hissing. It looked out at me and settled down, first licking then sticking its paw out of the cage at me again.

We all stared as the cat moved as close to the front of the cage as it could, pressing its body against the cage door, turning over on its belly then meowed directly at me again.

I turned around and spoke to the critter. I put my hand through the kennel and touched it. It purred.

“Toni” my husband said as I leaned even more toward the X marked cage. “We already have two cats.”

“Let’s see what happens if we take him out. Would you open the cage for me?” I said.

As soon as the cage was open, I put my arms out, the cat crawled into my arms, lodging against my chest, putting its soiled head against my neck. I could feel the sharp claws in my shirt, but I wasn’t scratched. The soft foul cat breath was whispering against my neck. The cat was big but thin.

Twenty minutes later, it was my cat. I paid the fee. The cat was male.

As soon as we got home, I put the cat down. It ran behind the couch. I got some dry cat food and water put them near the cat. The other two cats saw the new cat run behind the couch. After a bit of sniffing, they ignored him. We let him stay behind the couch that night.

The next day was Sunday. The creature was no longer behind the couch. Instead there were many clumps of dirt and clumps of fur where the cat had been trying to clean himself. I refreshed his food and water and began the search. I asked my husband and daughter to help me look for the “big boy cat”. We searched until we found him.

Into the tub he went. The dirt came off him in tufts. He was a long-haired cat. His fur was black on top and gray underneath. No way could we adequately clean him. When we took him to the vet for his physical, we would have him shaved.

On the day of his vet appointment, I could not find him. I asked my family to help me look for the ‘big boy’ cat. We hadn’t named him yet. I needed a name that fit him.

I dropped him at the vet's, and they agreed to call me when he was done. The veterinarian would need to sedate the cat so they could shave him. When I went to pick him up, they had not shaved him. Instead, they had combed him out. The vet thought the cat was about 4–5 years old. He had gotten a clean bill of health.

The technician asked me if I wanted to sell him. He was a Smoke Persian, prized for their multicolored black and gray fur. When healthy, when a Smoke walked it looked as if the cat was floating on air.

The mean grubby cat from the shelter had vanished. In his palace was an even-tempered kitty that would look exquisite in time.

My problem was that the cat was an outstanding hider. I was often asking my family to help me find the “big boy cat” to give him the vitamins and concentrated food the veterinarian recommended to help him get healthy and gain weight.

The cat was a great hider. One day my husband was helping me look for him. He found him…behind the towels on the top shelf of our master bathroom. What in the world?

Until… one day I called up the stairs to my daughter to help me find that “big boy cat” and the cat walked out of his hiding place and right up to me.

My husband laughed and said, “Well I think the cat named himself.” The cat became Big Boy.

Image by TeroVesalainen from Pixabay

Big Boy was the smartest cat I ever owned. He was a true copy-cat. If he observed another cat behavior that was self-serving, Big Boy would adopt that behavior.

One of our other cats, Laplace had a trick where he would loudly beg my husband for food and my spouse would give the cat treats.

One day Laplace walked over to beg and right beside him, also compellingly begging was Big Boy. Big Boy had never begged for treats, but he did now. Once he started talking, he never stopped. He continued being vocal for the rest of his life; expressing his pleasure or displeasure.

Another of our cats, would jump to the top of the couch then saunter down into whichever lap he wanted. Big Boy appropriated the technique and began his own lap rotation process.

The best trick though was that he figured out how to be fed multiple times. We kept dry food and water out for the cats at all times, but we would give each cat a ½ can of wet food once a day.

Me, my husband and daughter came home at different times. One day my husband got off work early. Big Boy ran over and whined about eating so my spouse fed him his ½ can of wet food.

When my daughter came home, a few hours later the cat repeated the act, getting another ½ can of food.

When I walked in the house, they stopped me from feeding him yet another ½ can of food, explaining that Big Boy had been puking us out for months, getting fed multiple servings of wet food a day.

Big Boy was a character. We had a pair of love birds. One day my daughter came home and let the love birds out. She saw a flash of black run past her and looked up to see that Big Boy had captured one of the love birds. He was carefully carrying the bird in his mouth. He was not biting it, just prancing around with it. My daughter had to chase him around to get him to drop the bird which she then put back in its cage.

My spouse caught on that that something had happened to the birds when he came home. Normally the love birds were in their cage chittering. If you spoke to them, they would chitter more and jump around.

When he spoke to the birds, one bird was sitting gripping the stick not moving, just sitting there. He asked my daughter what happened. She confessed that Big Boy had gotten the bird.

Big Boy was my cat. If I was home, he boldly followed me wherever I went, supervising my efforts. If I made a lap, he was in it. No matter where I was, he squeezed in beside me if he could not get on my lap.

“Sleeping together is a euphemism for people, but tantamount to marriage with cats.” Marge Piercy

The cat was beautiful once his fur grew back in. He had the Persian look, but he was a big cat.

Once one of my friends came from out of town and complimented me on the beautiful toy cats sitting on my bed. There were no beautiful toy cats. It was my two stunning cats, MD and Big Boy relaxing on the bed.

Big Boy lived with us for nineteen years. Every day that I had with him was a joy. He was the cat who saved his own life and named himself. Some say when we die, our pets are waiting for us.

If so, I can’t wait to see my beautiful smoke Persian Big Boy again.

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