A eulogy for Cruz, written by my dad.
There are two kinds of cat people. Some have their cat’s claws removed, and some do not. The first person keeps his cat indoors because he can no longer protect himself. The other lives in fear that the cat who rules his life may revert to some not-too-hidden instinct and shred some valuable body part. You can tell by the condition of my sofa which kind of person I am. My cat, Buio, scoffs at the idea of a litter box. He tells you when he wants to go outside to do whatever he pleases. Yes, there are dangers out there, but the dangers may be greater for every bird, squirrel and rabbit in our neighborhood. Tigger (my childhood cat) went where he wanted, lived a long life, and died of cancer in your mothers arms. What a great life.
We lost Cruz today. Somehow his adventures ended in injuries that were fatal. There is sadness in the thought of his passing, but the story of his adventures is great.
He began life in a small post-college apartment, forced to endure living with a yappy dog that he could whoop with one paw. They became wonderful friends and played constantly when Cruz was in the house. He already came and went when he wanted.
Soon Sarah moved to Camp Eagle in the Texas Hill Country and it fell to dear old dad to transport the beast across Texas. I thank God that I am still alive. That cat knew I was coming. We somehow managed to catch him, wrap him in a towel, and make it to the car. Being the free range cat people that we are, we do not own a cat carrier, so we placed him in the back and began to pray. He moaned, pouted, glared. We knew that our lives were in danger. For some reason, he chose not to kill us, but I do not think that he ever truly forgave me.
Sarah asked if she should let him outside in this new environment that included hawks, wild hogs, and even mountain lions. I said that is where he belongs. He has an air of self-preservation. He is big, just as mean as he has to be, smart, and he has claws. I pitty the fool that messes with him. He quickly found a friend in a wild cat that lived on its own in a nearby barn. Together they ruled the camp. Mountain lions respected their territory.
Life led Sarah to calmer surroundings in Fort Worth. An older, quiet neighborhood with different challenges for a giant tabby. Sarah asked the cat to live this new life, and he agreed under certain rules. A small window on the glassed-in front porch remained open so that Cruz could come and go as he pleased. Every day he came in, he loved, ate, purred, talked, and made sure the dog was in her place as his minion, and then he ventured out again to rule the neighborhood.
The reign has now ended. He gave pure cat love on his terms, as a true cat does. Sweet cat love. Now he plays with Tigger and Ada. His claws are intact.
We will miss you.
He Died With His Claws On
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