Casey (March 31st, 1992 - October 18th, 2007)
Casey started life as a runt. He was so tiny, I worried he wouldn’t live. He was also shockingly orange with wide, blue eyes. His brother, Moe, was identical, but black. I called them my Halloween cats. They came into my life in 1992. It seems like a lifetime ago now, and I guess it was—Casey’s lifetime. We lost Moe in 1995. Casey spent weeks sitting on our back deck, scanning the horizon for his brother.
Casey was a trooper. For the first two years he came to work with me everyday. We moved ten times in sixteen years and adopted numerous kittens, puppies and other critters. Casey took it all in stride.
For the first few months, he hid from me constantly. He was so timid; I thought I’d never get a cuddle. By the end of his life, he was my constant companion. Many of my typos can be blamed on his big pink and orange paw stretching out to tap my keyboard.
Though he outgrew his runtiness (he was 17 pounds in him prime), his life was plagued with inexplicable illnesses, so I am thankful that I had sixteen fabulous years with him.
When he first became ill with diabetes, my daughter was five. She asked me “What if Casey just doesn’t wake up one morning?” It broke my heart to tell her that might happen. Her question sent me thinking about animals I have lost in the past and the way we deal with such tragedies. The result is my young adult novella, The Stone Beach, which will be published by Eternal Press in February 2008. Casey inspired it, and his paws helped to type it. I think he would approve.
My Favorite Casey Story
One summer afternoon, a German Shepherd and a Sheltie came down the dirt road to our house and chased Moe, up a tree. We had dozens of oaks in our yard, and Moe picked the tallest as his refuge. I saw this from my office, but before I could open the window to shoo the dogs away, Casey ran out of the bushes. Casey was alarmingly orange at the best of times. Now he was ripe with rage and puffed up like a great orange beach ball. He flew at the German Shepherd and swiped him across the tender part of his nose. The German Shepherd, yelped and stepped on the Sheltie who yipped. They both ran home down the dirt road yipping and yelping and never bothered us again.
Casey’s ruffled fur took about an hour to settle down. Moe had to be rescued with a really tall ladder. But that’s another story.
