Walker — Better Known as Kitty-Kitty

Nineteen years ago, I wrote the story below in the days after losing Walker, a cat who came into my life in the most unlikely way and stayed for far too short a time.

I have not thought about publishing it again for many years. But recently, with Finn coming into our home first as a foster dog and then quietly becoming part of our family, I found myself thinking about Walker.

Some animals do more than live with us. They arrive at a particular moment. They find a place in the house, of course, but also a place in us that may have been hurting, lonely, or simply waiting.

Walker did that for me.

The writing below is from another time in my life. I could probably polish it now, shorten a few sentences, clean up a few things. But I have decided to leave it mostly as I wrote it then, because grief has its own voice, and so does love.

This is the story of Walker.

Better known as Kitty-Kitty.

Originally written in 2007.

I lost a good friend this past Saturday. Walker, my cat, went on to his next life.

Some of you knew him already, and even if you didn’t ever meet him, I think if you read this story, you’ll come to know him. I hope so, because he was a special being — so much more than a cat.

And so, if you can take a few minutes from your busy lives, I’ll tell you part of the story I was privileged to live.

I guess you’d say Walker came from humble beginnings.

It all started over two and a half years ago when I was walking the path down below my home and along a creek. My neighbor Janie and I had started trying to walk the four or five miles several times a week, and this was a typical summer morning.

Or so I thought.

We were briskly walking down the path, about a mile and a half or two miles from the house, when up ahead, about 75 yards away, I saw what appeared to be a cat emerging from the woods along the path.

To my surprise, he turned onto the path and headed our way.

I remember thinking, How strange. That cat should be headed the other way if he’s a stray. Or even if he isn’t, it was very un-catlike behavior.

But he kept coming toward us as we approached him.

At some point, Janie saw him too, and we both just looked at each other with a What is he doing? kind of look.

Finally, we stopped when he was only 15 feet away.

But he kept walking.

He came right up to my feet, looked up into my eyes, and rolled over onto his back, baring his belly and rolling onto my shoes.

I think it was love at first sight for both of us.

Both Janie and I petted him, and he continued to roll on our shoes. I just figured he was a very friendly cat who lived in one of the houses somewhere nearby.

Janie and I said goodbye to him and continued our walk.

As I glanced behind us, I realized he was following us.

We walked another 25 or 50 feet when, there beside the walking trail but tucked back into the woods, we saw a cardboard box with the name Prince scrawled on the top, an empty paper bowl, and a torn T-shirt. The box also held a few bits of dry cat food.

We knew then that this was no stray.

Someone had abandoned him in the woods.

By now, he had caught back up to us and was rolling on my feet again.

I looked at Janie and said, “We can’t leave him out here.”

We tried picking him up, but he was a little unsure of that, and I realized we weren’t going to be able to carry him home. So I asked Janie to stay with him while I ran back and got my car.

I remember thinking on the way home, What am I going to do with a cat?

But there was no doubt that I was going to take him in.

Like I said, it was love at first sight.

I got the car and raced back to Janie. I didn’t have a cat carrier, but I did have a blanket I thought we could wrap him in until we got home.

It was at this point that we learned the one thing in life Walker hated: getting into and riding in a car.

He screamed all the way home.

When we got there, I was trying to figure out how I was going to get this cat into my house without him taking off and running away. Janie had a cat carrier at her house, so she got it, and we put a small can of cat food inside.

Walker walked right in.

It was the last time he ever walked into a carrier willingly, as he quickly learned to associate them with car rides.

And so I walked into my home carrying a full-grown cat I had just found beside the woods, knowing I had to explain why he was there to my two Shih Tzus, Max and Bucca, and to my wife, who was at her office.

I took Walker to the basement first because I didn’t want him upset with the dogs, or vice versa. Plus, I didn’t know if he had anything that could harm them.

I called my wife first and told her. She remembers me telling her how cute he was and how I thought he had a new home.

Then I called and made a veterinarian appointment to get him checked out.

It turned out someone had taken care of him at one time. He was declawed — not a nice thing to do — and neutered. And he was in good health.

Everyone at the veterinarian’s office marveled at how good-looking he was and how friendly he was. They couldn’t believe someone had dumped him.

We’ll never know the story of why he was abandoned in the woods.

But somehow, he found me.

And that was all that mattered to both of us.

I changed his name from Prince, which had been written on the box, to Walker. It seemed more appropriate, considering how he had walked into my life.

The truth is, he never answered to Walker or Prince.

He seemed to like it when we called him Kitty-Kitty.

But I never really needed to call him very often. He would just show up by my side.

He would say hello to visitors, never hiding. He was good with children, other pets, and anyone or anything that came into his circle.

But he would walk and climb over people to come and nuzzle against me.

We often exchanged head butts. It was a sign of affection on his part and something special that was only between the two of us.

Walker, formerly Prince, in his first home.

Over the next two and a half years, Walker continued to amaze me with his love and his specialness.

You hear that cats are aloof and don’t show love the way dogs do.

Well, I can tell you that wasn’t the case with Walker.

He was amazingly patient with Bucca, who was just a puppy when they met. Bucca would jump on Walker, and Walker would play and roll around with him. Only a couple of times did he show his annoyance with a little nip, but Bucca and he would be back at it in a couple of hours.

Max and Walker seemed to have a mutual admiration. They didn’t really play together very much, but Walker would frequently tease Max and race him up and down the stairs.

And Max loved to pretend to stalk Walker, creeping up on him from behind until he could pounce.

Of course, every time he pounced, Walker was long gone. He always saw him coming.

Somewhere along the line, I got all three of my pals into the habit of what I called “cocktail hour.”

Since I started working from home, I’ve always tried to have a snack and some wine ready when Joann comes home from work around 5:30 in the afternoon. Often it’s just cheese and crackers, but sometimes it’s more elaborate.

The animals got to know my schedule.

They knew that anytime from 4:30 to 5:00, I would head down from my office to start cocktail hour. They loved that time of day because they got treats, and they just seemed to enjoy the ritual.

I could set my watch by them appearing in my office around 4:30 to let me know it was about time to stop working.

Often, I would still be working on a project, and I’d have to pet them and let them know I was running late.

About a year ago, Walker got smart and realized that somehow my right hand moving the mouse, or painting with a digital pen, had something to do with my quitting work.

So he began bumping my right hand.

Hard.

I laughed the first time he did it, and it continued right up to the last time he did it this past week.

Sometimes I really needed to finish the job, but no amount of discussion or sternness with him got him to stop head-butting my hand.

I think it was his way of saying, Come on. It’s our time now.

I always eventually gave up and went downstairs, with both dogs and Walker surrounding me every step of the way.

Max and Bucca — Walker’s best buddies.

I could tell you more stories, but perhaps it’s better to end with what I’ll call the big picture.

Walker walked into my life at a time when I was feeling badly about myself. I had gone through several very painful years, both personally and physically, and my father had passed away just a few months before.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the support and love of Joann and my two pups, I don’t know how I made it at times.

When Walker arrived, I knew somehow that he had chosen me for a reason.

It was always quite clear that he was my cat, and he loved me unconditionally.

I came to love living with him, and I know he felt the same way about me.

In the past half dozen months, I’ve felt better than I have for years, and I’ve learned to let go of the pain of the past.

Maybe Walker knew that.

Maybe he knew his job was done here.

Saturday afternoon, he was lying on top of one of my workbenches in the basement as I was trying to trim some photos. It had become his favorite perch.

I say trying to trim photos because he wanted to play, and of course I stopped and got his favorite scarf and made it dance so he could pounce on it.

We played for a while, and then I went back to trimming.

He continued trying to grab the pieces of paper as they fell away.

Suddenly, he gave a strange meow that was muffled.

When I looked at him — he was only inches away — I saw that he was on his side and not moving.

As I touched him, I knew that he was gone.

I couldn’t believe it. I called Joann to come and check with me.

I was devastated and didn’t understand how he could be so healthy and gone in seconds.

After grieving for a while, and hoping it was somehow not true, I called my friend Stephen, who has 35 acres nearby. I knew he would provide a burial space.

He did much more than that.

When we got there, he had made a monument out of beautiful stone from his property.

Joann and I both inscribed the stone.

Joann wrote his name, Kitty-Kitty, and the date.

I added only three initials:

H.F.M.

He found me.

Over the last two days, I realize he left me with one final lesson that I need to take to heart.

Life really is too short.

I know it is trite to say, but you really do need to live every moment as if it might be your last.

And if you love someone, make sure you tell them.

Make sure you show them.

Walker would like that.

On Sunday, I remembered that I had done some photography of a home where the owner ran a kitten and cat rescue and adoption program.

Joann and I gave Diane, the lady behind the scenes, a call, and she said, “Come on over now.”

Part of me was torn because it seemed so soon.

But part of me wanted to follow up on what Walker had taught me about life being short.

And so we went and found two beautiful new kittens to bring into our lives.

Winnie was a gorgeous, light butterscotch, seven-month-old long-haired kitty.

Bear was a black, rambunctious, seven-week-old baby

Bear & Winnie

They had bonded together in the shelter, and we couldn’t separate them.

So the circle continues.

We are introducing them slowly to the dogs, who want to play with them NOW.

Winnie has already found some favorite sleeping places and seems unaffected by the dogs.

Bear has already shown he can give as good as he gets from Bucca.

Joann and I miss Walker, but we know he will always be part of our lives.

And sometime soon, around 4:30 in the afternoon, when I’m working at my computer, I fully expect to find one of the kittens knocking my hand off the mouse.

And I’ll know he’s still with me.

One more of Walker