Big Dope Days

I first saw him about 15 years ago hanging out in the giant boulders next to our house in the Colorado mountains.

He was jet black and solid, like a little panther, and he looked down upon us from his rocky perch. But when we tried to approach him, he would scurry away behind the massive granite formations.

We had no idea where he may have come from. He obviously was in good health, but he had no collar or identification. It seemed he had perhaps wandered away from his home – and while I looked for any sign posted in our subdivision that he was missing – I never did see one.

We tried to lure him down from the rocks to our house, but he wasn’t having any of it. He preferred to keep his distance, even after we began putting out food and water for him.

Gradually, the gentle Fall weather gave way to the arrival of Winter’s chill. And finally – one frigid night – he walked through the pet door into my waiting arms. All of his aloofness suddenly melted away, and he purred loudly as I embraced and cuddled him.

Just a big baby, after all.

At first, we called him “Blackie.” Real original, right? But in time, we attached another moniker to him: Big Dope.

Big, for obvious reasons, and Dope, because – while he was lovable – he was not the smartest creature ever to walk the planet.

Just lovably stupid.

He soon became king of our little mountain, where there were already two other cats calling it home, along with our dog. He could not be frightened by anything. My wife said she even witnessed him staring down a bobcat one day.

Yes, those were indeed his Salad Days. He and I took many a walk around our seven-acre paradise, and those strolls were simply wonderful.

But eventually, circumstances beyond our control forced us to leave our mountain home and relocate to the city, and his days of running free were over. Afraid that he might run away or get hit by a car on a nearby busy street, we kept him inside our house for the next six years.

Finally, I decided that he had gotten too old and afraid of the Outside World to run away and I began letting him out into the yard – under my close supervision.

But Time began to catch up to Big Dope. First, he went deaf. Being outside without supervision would surely have ended badly for a deaf cat. Then he somehow injured his left front paw, which – even after a $750 emergency vet visit – would not completely heal. 

Next, he went blind in his right eye. No hearing and only one eye -- he was becoming helpless.

Finally, his back left leg began to malfunction, giving him an uncertain, sideways gait. And while he was still eating well, he began to lose a lot of weight.

It was at his point I decided his quality of life was gone, and the kindest thing to do would be to schedule his euthanasia.

But then I decided that would be wrong. 

As long as he was not in any discernible pain and he was still eating, it seemed I would be robbing him of his last days on this Earth by scheduling his demise.

I decided I wanted Big Dope to have a “natural death” – the kind we all would like. Only God knew when his body would take its final breath, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that.

Yeah, that was supposed to be the way it would happen...

But almost overnight, he lost the use of his left back leg. Could it have been a stroke? Who knows?

But suddenly he could barely drag himself across the floor to his litter box. He was now only a shadow of his former self.

That's when I scheduled the euthanasia.

On the way to the animal shelter and his final demise, I held him on my lap and stroked him gently while my wife drove. One last loving pet, and the shelter worker took him away for his shot.

It was a tough day to get through. Anyone who's ever had to euthanize a beloved pet knows what I'm talking about.

So -- finally -- it was the moment to say so long to my sweet cat. We had many good times together, and I don't believe he could have had a better life.

But the end comes for us all one day, and today was that day for the Big Dope.

May our spirits be together again someday.

Peace be with you, my old friend.