Once there was a Cat named Hook

This is not well written. It’s not polished.

There was only one Hook. In the beginning he was a tiny kitten. Pure white. His eyes were barely opened.

Abandoned by the railroad tracks along with a box full of kittens.

We were just loading into the car and along he came. Little ball of fur. He climbed up my wife’s bare legs into her arms. So many fleas he was bleeding. My wife accepted him and he accepted my wife. We brought him, along with one of his brother kittens, back 800 miles with us to our home in Amarillo.

Our daughter washed him and cleaned him and got rid of all the fleas.

Later, we had him declawed. We didn’t know, at the time, this was cruel. Never again. But his name stuck, like he stuck to my wife’s legs that day. Hook became his name.

And he loved his name. My wife would call him, and he would come. Better than any dog. He lived with us 13 years. Perfectly healthy.

He turned dark. Dark, dark brown. But such a loving cat, King of the Household to the end. Extremely devoted to my wife.

When we’d go to bed, she’d call him, “Hook!” He’d come running. He always kissed her (a wet nudge of his nose to her mouth), and he’d purr so loudly I had trouble going to sleep! Every evening he’d come and bug me, sit on my keyboard, and demand that I pet him.

Hook. The one and only.

This cat was unusual. Once, when we moved into a new house, we were worried that Hook might get out and get lost in the new neighborhood. So we asked my wife’s brother, Mike, to lock Hook in the bedroom while we carried in the furniture. He did. Up to that point Hook and Mike liked each other, but after that Hook held a grudge for years and wouldn’t come to see Mike. Finally, after some years, Hook forgave Mike. Then Mike passed away, but Hook remained. Hook outsurvived my wife’s brother.

So it was personal. Hook. A member of the family. Come when he was called. Held grudges and would forgive, so very emotional.

Even a few weeks ago he would play, sitting on my keyboard swatting at my pen.

We don’t know what happened. A week or so ago something was wrong. My wife called him, but instead of jumping up on the bed, he cried terribly. He died a week later. We’re not sure why. The whole week he would crawl to where we were and lie down. Crying. It was terrible. We hoped he would pull through.

I won’t go into details. Don’t know what happened to him. Maybe he was hit by another car. We lost 3 cats by cars before – maybe he was another. Maybe a neighbor poisoned him. Maybe a neighbor poisoned a mouse and he ate the mouse. That’s the worst part, just not knowing what happened.

One day he was healthy, purring, bugging us, the next day he was terribly sick. A week later he died. Today. So sad.

Most of us have pets. Some cats, some dogs, some others. For us, however, no other animal can replace Hook. He was one of a kind. We never saw an animal touch our lives that much. He is missed.

“He was a very important part of my life,” my wife says. I never saw a cat behave toward anyone like Hook and my wife.

Tonight we are sad. Good bye Hook. We miss you.

Author: Wayne Boyd

Wayne Edward Boyd was born in Morristown, New Jersey in 1953. He is a published author, former ISKCON sannyasi, and traveler, having lived on 3 continents and visited 37 countries. He presently lives in Amarillo, Texas working as a correctional officer and has interests in photography, political science and astronomy.

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