In Memory of Nick

Nick died last night. He was the nicest kitty I ever had. He came to us about 15 years ago when we lived on Brookside Lane. He was Champagne colored and Jimmy and Lisa were visiting. We opened the door and he rushed in and jumped up on the kitchen counter. Lisa called him “Miss Champagne” not knowing he was a male. All we had in the refrigerator was some home made pate and some whipping cream. We gave it to him and I am sure he thought, “This is the place.” He had a nick in his ear, a little bit of a limp and a needy expression. We joked and said that he had probably not only bought our names on the streets of Chicago as “sure-fire suckers” but also gotten a course on “How to Get Yourself Adopted.” We let him back outside but he returned. Don put a collar on him with a note that said, “Please call us if this is your cat.” After several days of his coming and going and no calls, we decided we had a “free” cat. We took him to the vet who said he was about 1.5 to 2 years old and in good health. He noted the torn ear but said it was healed and looked fine. He found no reason for the limp. We paid the vet bill and then bought the expensive cat food the vet had recommended, special bowls and a fancy bed. About $300 later we took our “free” cat home.

Nick had already been neutered and declawed in the front. He was scraggly from living rough. The nick out of his ear was healed and looked as though he had been attacked rather severely. We named him Nick and decided when he was good he would be Saint Nick and when he was bad he would be Old Nick. The vet said he could live to be about 20 if we kept him inside. We decided to do that. At first he was a little scared and hid behind the sofa in the living room. But gradually he warmed up and we discovered we had a very sweet and loving cat. Don and I used to tell each other, “Nick can live without food but not without affection.”

After about a year, Nick’s fur filled out and he became a very handsome cat. He must have been part Persian because he had that sort of flat face and lots of fur. He had a royal plume of a tail. He sometime could be mischievous. At Christmas we tied a ribbon with a bell on it around his neck. He hated it. Later when we returned home after being out for a few hours, the Christmas tree was toppled over. Another time he, somehow, jumped up on the mantelpiece and broke a McCoy vase. At a library conference I got him a T-shirt that said, “Library Cat”. We put it on him but he was so pathetic, slinking down and not even being able to walk. We took it off immediately. Twice he got out. Once it was at night and we could not find him anywhere. But it started to rain and I looked out and he was on the front porch. I opened the door and he rushed in. Another time Don was trying to get a squirrel out of the basement and took Nick downstairs to help. Nick cornered the squirrel, which then lunged at Nick. Nick turned and rushed up the stairs and out the back door Don had propped open so that the squirrel could escape. Actually Nick was a bit of a scardey cat. Thunder frightened him and sent him to the basement or at least under the bed or behind something. We wondered if the days of living rough had left its mark on him, or if he was just born a scaredy cat.

We settled in to life with Nick very nicely. He loved to sit in the sun and would find a sunny spot, even on the floor, and just bake away. You could touch his fur and it would be hot. Don put up a shelf for him in the sunniest window and it became Nick’s favorite place. He also liked the backs of the wing chairs or the sofa, where he had a good view, and especially favored sitting on the darker velvet pieces so that his fur showed up to best advantage. Soon we were looking for someone to clean on a weekly basis to keep up with the cat hair that seemed to cover everything. We devised special names for him such as Grimalkin, or Mr. Nick or Furry or Nick-Knack. He would come when called or when he heard wet food being prepared. He also had the ability so show up if there was a family emergency or even something with emotional content. Very quickly Nick became a full member of our family. Don and I talked about him and to him constantly. We wondered what we had done with our lives before Nick arrived.

When we moved to 590 Wilmot Road, Don brought Nick over the night before we actually moved in and he spent the night here while we were in a hotel room. He seemed to like it here. Rosa came to live with us in November 2001. We read up on how to introduce a new cat. It was always an uneasy truce. Rosa hissed at Nick and chased him. He took it in a sort of long-suffering way.

Nick used to sleep at the end of our bed. When Don developed some breathing problems, we banned the cats from our bedroom. But Nick often came in for the evening news to be brushed. Or when we were watching a movie or TV in the family room, Don would sit at one end of the sofa. I would sit next to him and Nick would come sit next to me. I would pet and brush him. He liked that a lot. Even up until the end of his life, Nick often would sleep just outside of our bedroom door. It was as if he wanted to be as close as possible and as though he wanted to protect us.