 Henry: The Big Orange  enry was foisted upon my-then boyfriend Frank by two of his children
after a visit to a pet store. Frank came home from work one day to find a
rat-tailed kitten on his family room rug. What started out as a "kid
experiment," to a home that had never had pets, turned out to be what Frank
called "a 16-year helluva good ride."
As a young boy, Henry suffered through wearing "the pink doll dress," which the girls thought he looked cute in. (Alas, no pictures of this were ever taken.) Despite this, Henry was happy in his new home. At age 4, Henry got a companion, Larry. Larry took over on day one, but Henry didn't seem to mind. Ever placid, Henry rolled with the punches life handed him. When Frank and I got married, Henry had to move to a house with two girl cats. Yikes! For days, Henry pined, living atop his covered litterbox, the only remnant of his "real home." And yet...there was Katie-Cat, someone he could torment--just by looking at her! For 22 months, Henry made Katie's life a living hell. Chasing her, swatting her, screaming at her. Life was not fun for the newlyweds and their blended family. Then we moved to a much bigger house. And while the chasing and swatting still happened between St. Kate and Der Hendrick, life became manageable again. After Katie passed away, Henry decided to console Lorraine by becoming "her boy." He was subtle about it. He'd greet me at the door when I came home from work. He rubbed against my ankles. He sat on my lap during Star Trek. Yes, he who had menaced St. Kate completely wormed his way into my heart. Henry could be ornery when around children, but most of the time he was just Henry. He had to be boosted when the Buffalo Bills won, for this was a tradition. Henry developed ESP whenever muffins graced our table,and we even called him "The Muffin Man" (accompanied by the song) because he insisited on having his fair share. Though neutered, Henry liked to show off the vestiges of his manhood--especially on a Sunday morning. You could almost set your watch by the time Henry would crank up his leg to bless you with the sight of his privates. Henry was a great lover of catnip, and until the day before he died, he happily played with his catnip mouse. He would walk around the house, mouse in mouth, little bell tinkling, howling--what we called "invoking the mouse." The first time I heard this, I thought the poor boy was dying. (Now, I long to hear that sound.) Late in his life, Henry would chase Chester around the living room, forgetting for a few minutes that he was old. He'd sit on an old fruit crate in our enclosed porch, watching squirrels and chipmunks, savoring the warm breeze. And having his face brushed was the nearest Henry ever got to Nirvana. Though living on borrowed time, Henry celebrated his 16th birthday with a candle in a muffin. A month later, he suffered a devastating stroke and we lost him. It's amazing how the human heart can survive such a grievous wound at the loss of a beloved pet.
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1858 Monday March 24 2008 |
