Ode to a Little Tuxedo Cat

Friends,

When my daughter was three years old, she had a dream that we got a black-and white-kitten named Minnie. We had taken a family trip to Disney World, and she was all about the Disney characters, which we thought explained the dream. Shortly after the dream, there was a big snowstorm. A blizzard in fact. We left the grocery store, having stocked up on milk and bread like most Rhode Islanders do when snow is forecasted, and pulled into our driveway. Sure enough, there was a tiny, feral tuxedo cat sitting in our driveway. Not a kitten per se, but the cat couldn’t have been more than a year old. The temperature dropped. The snow fell, then blew sideways. There was no way this poor little cat would survive the storm. So, we took her inside and fed her, with the plan that we would release her back into the wild the next day after the storm had passed. The cat never left.

Minnie - December 2009

Of course, we had no choice but to name her Minnie. And to our amazement, she was surprisingly social and extremely affectionate. We took her with us when we moved across the country to California and then to Colorado when we moved to Fort Collins almost eight years ago. Minnie was the best pet we ever had. She'd leap onto my shoulders while I worked, made herself comfortable on my keyboard during Zoom meetings, and would even curl up next to me while I watched Netflix.

Then one morning, completely out of the blue, she was sick. We were concerned. Very concerned. This was an animal who never got sick and rarely went to the vet. She hid in the closet and wouldn’t eat. My wife, Kathy, immediately took her to the vet. Her blood work results were abysmal. They said there was nothing they could do and sent us home with a basic steroid. We weren’t having it. Kathy took her to Colorado State University’s Veterinary Teaching Hospital. The ultrasound revealed a massive tumor on her spleen. They weren’t sure if she’d survive the surgery. With as much hope as we could muster, we rolled the dice and opted for the surgery. They removed her spleen. Not only did Minnie survive the surgery, she recovered in two days. Two days! We removed the “cone of shame” and Minnie was back to normal. Seriously. Unfortunately, the biopsy results showed that the cancer spread, and it was terminal. CSU gave her one month. We were devastated. Ultimately, Minnie outlived her prognosis by almost six months. During these months, Minnie thrived. She was the same lovable cat we always had. CSU actually called her Rambo. We laughed and embraced the nickname. We watched her closely and measured her good days and bad days. My daughter came home from college to say goodbye. Unfortunately, the cancer caught up with Rambo. Last Saturday, early in the morning, she passed peacefully at home in her bed. At the very end, she extended her paw and reached for my hand. My heart shattered 😢

We had Minnie for 15 wonderful years, and she was truly the best pet we could have asked for. Pets are family in every sense. I’d like to think Minnie is somewhere out there in the universe, strolling across a keyboard and sticking her butt right into a Zoom meeting.

Minnie - September 2024

RIP Minnie ❤️