A Heartbreaking Start to September

My gut told me something was wrong last night. Harold wasn’t coming in when I called. Even if he’s not ready to come in, he usually at least lets me know he’s heard me by making himself visible.

Tigger came in. But then he wanted back out. Then he was acting weird. 

He kept staring across the street. I asked what he was looking at.

“Is your buddy over there?” 

His ears twitched, he cast an annoyed glance over his shoulder at me, then he finally relented and came in.

I gave one last shout for Harold, but he did’t come. It was 11:30 p.m. I was fighting to keep my eyes open. Harold would have to spend the night outside.

The Boys

If you didn’t see Harold and Tigger together, it’s hard to describe what peas in a pod they were. You had to see it to truly appreciate it. 

Even before Harold’s people moved and we got the privilege of adopting him as one of our own, there wasn’t a day that went by that Harold and Tigger didn’t pal around together.

Harold would come down looking for Tigger most mornings and then again in the evenings. I’d set food out, usually for both of them because Tigger would snub his inside food. Harold was there. He wanted to be with him.

They’d have a little breakfast together, then set out on their daily adventure.

Mid-morning Tigger usually came back home. He’d take a siesta, then mid-afternoon he’d want out. To go find Harold, unless Harold was waiting for him on either the front porch or back deck.

Sometimes I’d see Tigger walking Harold home in the evenings. What a sight to see them on the sidewalk together. Truly. Just like kids.

The Adoption

But Harold seemed to know his family life was going to change, so last Thanksgiving he did something he’d never done before: he came inside and spent the night. Well, actually that whole weekend with us.

He respected that his presence aggravated Tabby. He tried to stay out of her way. She seemed to tolerate that. And that’s all it took. Once he saw there was hope for a truce, he spent more and more time down here inside with Tigger, until in January his mom said they couldn’t take him and I didn’t hesitate to say we’d love to have him.

Because really. The heartbreak of thinking of Tigger and him having to say goodbye to each other? Insufferable!

I was glad they didn’t have to.

The Adjustment Period

We had some kinks to work out with Harold. He did not like a dirty box.
He would go outside the box if it wasn’t to his liking, so we had to scoop two, sometimes three, times a day.

But if he went outside the box it was always in the same corner. I discovered dog training pee pads and decided to give them a try. He would go on the pee pee pad. Smart.

And he knew whipped cream. Boy did he like that. He knew the sound of the little bowls I’d use to give him some, and he’d come running.

So him and Tabby would have whipped cream socials. Tigger could care less about it, but Tabby also loves whipped cream. It was the one time she was perfectly okay with him being near her.

He wasn’t super snuggly or loving with us. Now with Tigger that was a whole different story.

But when he did decide to cuddle up with me? He melted my heart.

He LOVED to play though. He had what I called “Sparkle Balls” that were his favorites. He’d chase them all over and have a big time just amusing himself. 

And there were him and Tig’s wrestle mania smack downs…

I hope Tigger’s grief isn’t too bad. I can’t tell if he understands yet or not.

The Sad Discovery

Wayne was the one to find Harold –with Tigger close by– this morning.

He came home from working out and saw them on the grass. They usually greet us when we come home from anything, and it’s always a good feeling.

“What are you clowns doing?” Wayne asked as he got out of his truck.

Tigger stopped rolling around and came to see him. Harold didn’t move. Wayne went to get a better look and he knew immediately: Harold’s dead.

“Court,” Wayne said as he opened the door, his tone very somber.

I knew. I knew right then that Harold was gone. 

Well, I wasn’t sure if it was Harold or Tigger, but I knew it was one of them. I guessed Harold because it would explain why I hadn’t seen him last night.

The Mystery

Our across the street neighbor had texted a week or two ago to say she was worried Harold was going to get hit. She’d seen him have a close call.

I saw him have a close call last week myself.

But when I went out today to look at him, there were no signs of trauma. No blood. He didn’t look like he’d been hit. Or shot. Or anything else.

Even weirder, a few months back we came home and found a black cat we’d never seen before dead on that same side of the house.

The night before we found him, we’d heard a God awful commotion. Like a cat fight, with that ear piercing yowling and screeching. But worse. Something was in massive pain.

I went out to investigate, but all of our cats were accounted for.

Then we discovered that body the next day.

I don’t recall hearing anything last night except what I thought was Tabby jumping on the glass in the sunroom. I assumed she was being pissy/inside-out-fighting with Harold like they do. Because he’d get up on a ledge and sit there to taunt her. It was sort of funny really. 

But after I posted on Facebook that we’d woken up to this horrible discovery, my across-the-street neighbor texted me to call her. So I did.

Was He Hit?

She said she’d seen Harold get hit last night. He was thrown out from under the car but then went running to our house so she figured he was okay.

I’m not sure why she didn’t call last night. I wish she would’ve. I don’t know if we would’ve taken him to the emergency vet or not, though.

If we’d even found him, what if he’d been walking normally? We might’ve just breathed a sigh of relief and figured he was fine.

I can’t even imagine how much more devastated I’d feel if we’d known, done nothing, and he died. 

Even though she said he’d been hit, it seems suspicious we’ve had two cats turn up dead like that.

So I took him to the vet to get an autopsy done. Hopefully in a week or two we’ll know what happened.

The Heartbreak

For now, I’m trying to wrap my mind around the fact I had
just created a Harold & Tigger album on my Facebook to share photos and videos of them together because I knew one day this day would come.

I just hoped it’d have been a lot longer down the road than this!

Harold, thank you for accepting us and adopting us as your people in order to stay close to your BFF. I know he’s going to miss all the rough housing and getting into mischief that you two did. 

Wayne and I are sure going to miss you, you little Mad Bomber. You weren’t here long but you sure brought a lot of joy to this family (even if you also imbued the air with some horrid smells).

But we’re going to miss you, you little stinker. Your paw prints will forever be on our hearts. Thank you for being so obliging about me taking your photo. I’m even more glad now than ever I have these of you.