I did not know when I picked up the stray kitten in 1990 that he would be with me for 17 years, through 2 moves, 6 jobs, a marriage, countless art projects, great times and terrible times, natural and man-made disasters,

as much a part of my life as any human friend or family member.
 

Charlie was not an extraordinary cat, in the same way that any one child is not an extraordinary child, except to that child’s parents.  He was the quintessential cat.  Although he was a large cat, 16 or 17 pounds, he was always gentle with humans.  He never bit or scratched, even if he was being held longer than he wanted to be held, or while at the vet’s.  He sometimes got into scraps with other cats, but he always ended up losing those.  He was so non-aggressive that we had to get an electronic cat door to keep the neighborhood cats from coming into the house.

Like most cats he loved to hunt.  Most of his victims were gophers, although he caught a few birds and mice in his day.  Probably the most unusual thing he caught were a series of bats, over the course of a couple weeks one year.  I never found out how he managed to catch them, but could only speculate he found a roosting area and grabbed them as they flew in or out.  Yes, he was always up-to-date on his rabies shots.  One summer he killed about half a dozen ground squirrels, when they made the mistake of burrowing under the fence into the back yard

. 

One of his favorite things to do was bring a gopher into my bedroom at 3 AM and eat it there.  If I wasn’t home, he’d eat it in the living room. Either way, he had to make sure I saw it, even if it was just the remains.

He lived through the Northridge Earthquake in 1993, although the experience left him so traumatized he hid under the bed for a week (literally.)  For the first terrifying night he got accidently shut in the outdoor closet, when I locked it to keep it from being shaken open again during the aftershocks.  It was just through sheer luck Dwight saw him sticking a paw under the door the next day and we found him.  For the rest of his life he was terrified by earthquakes and loud noises.
 

In the second half of his life, especially, he was my constant companion around the house.  He’d always come to say hello when I’d get home from work.  If I was working in my office he’d sleep in the cat tree there, or sit under the lamp on my desk doing his ‘heat lamp’ treatment.  If he felt I wasn’t paying enough attention to him he’d lie down on my artwork.  If I was working on the computer he’d sleep in a chair next to me, or on the computer desk in front of the monitor.  If I was reading or watching TV he’d do a lap, and if I was working in the yard he’d come out to supervise and keep me company.

His favorite human activity was cleaning the aquarium, because there was always a chance a fish would jump out of the temporary holding bucket.  He loved eating cooked shrimp with Dwight, and loved the snow crab legs Lex would sometimes bring over for him if we’d been out to eat at Red Lobster.  He also loved his cat treats, and would paw at anyone sitting near the computer to give him treats.

If I stayed up too late reading he’d sit and meow at me until I came to bed.  He loved to sleep under the covers, no matter if it was a 4-blanket middle of the winter night, or a sheet-only middle of the summer night.  Although he would get up to do kitty prowlings during the wee hours, he was always with me when I woke up, and wouldn’t get up until I did, regardless if it was 7AM for work or 9 or 10 AM on the weekend.

Nights are the hardest, now.

Now there’s no more pills or trips to the vet, and he can keep Mao company, and they can tussle over who gets to sleep in the blue chair like they used to.  And Ashley can pounce on him and annoy him all over again.  I did not think it possible to love a cat so much.

11-6-2007