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They're burying Devon's family's cat Dude today; he died a couple of days ago. This was Dude. I've known him nearly as long as I've known Devon, and to call him a great cat is a vast understatement. Dude was a magnificent mancat, proactively affectionate, solid-hearted, bold as brass, demanding, with a hiccuping purr. A cat like that is a certainty: he knows what he wants, he knows his territory and he protect it, he knows his people and he demands affection from them. He was aging poorly—problems eating, weight loss, arthritis—and we could see his death on the horizon. Devon says he had a slow day and then died that evening, probably of heart failure.
I am incensed.
Dude was outdoors his entire life. He was neutered when he was already a few years old—which is why he looked and acted so masculine, which were endearing traits and I loved them, but. They didn't keep a clean litterbox for him, and kicked him out of the house when he defecated inside. He was on cheap food pretty much his entire life.
Keep your fucking cats indoors, guys. They live longer. They don't make more cats. Feed them good food. Give them a place to shit in peace. This is what we owe them, and we should be glad to pay up, because a cat like Dude is a motherfucking miracle on your armchair. He loves you; don't respond to that in halves. He would have been impossible to make indoors-only, but that's only because he was allowed to be outdoors for so long. There's this view that indoor/outdoor cats is something like veg*nism, a well-intended but personal lifestyle choice, a to-each-his-own, and it is not. It is how you protect the creature you promised to protect, end of story. They killed Madison when they started letting her go outside. Dude was an old man and he had a great life, but I watched Spike in his old years—he was older, he was actually sick, but he had a proactive caretaker and he lived years longer in much better health and oodles of comfort. I've watched Mamakitty, who was outdoors for years, adjust to the safety and comfort of being indoors so completely that we know she misses nothing and is grateful for everything, she is overflowing with love and learned safety: I can be here, I can be touched like this, nothing will hurt me.
I realize that my anger is also an outlet for sadness. I've seen his death coming and had plenty of times to say goodbye, so I'm doing okay—except that this piles on top of all the other shit that's been happening in truly unfortunate ways. But the anger is still justified. Keep your cats indoors. They deserve it.
I am incensed.
Dude was outdoors his entire life. He was neutered when he was already a few years old—which is why he looked and acted so masculine, which were endearing traits and I loved them, but. They didn't keep a clean litterbox for him, and kicked him out of the house when he defecated inside. He was on cheap food pretty much his entire life.
Keep your fucking cats indoors, guys. They live longer. They don't make more cats. Feed them good food. Give them a place to shit in peace. This is what we owe them, and we should be glad to pay up, because a cat like Dude is a motherfucking miracle on your armchair. He loves you; don't respond to that in halves. He would have been impossible to make indoors-only, but that's only because he was allowed to be outdoors for so long. There's this view that indoor/outdoor cats is something like veg*nism, a well-intended but personal lifestyle choice, a to-each-his-own, and it is not. It is how you protect the creature you promised to protect, end of story. They killed Madison when they started letting her go outside. Dude was an old man and he had a great life, but I watched Spike in his old years—he was older, he was actually sick, but he had a proactive caretaker and he lived years longer in much better health and oodles of comfort. I've watched Mamakitty, who was outdoors for years, adjust to the safety and comfort of being indoors so completely that we know she misses nothing and is grateful for everything, she is overflowing with love and learned safety: I can be here, I can be touched like this, nothing will hurt me.
I realize that my anger is also an outlet for sadness. I've seen his death coming and had plenty of times to say goodbye, so I'm doing okay—except that this piles on top of all the other shit that's been happening in truly unfortunate ways. But the anger is still justified. Keep your cats indoors. They deserve it.
