Memorial To Our Feline Family Members

Within a few weeks of Spud's birth, I fell in love with two little furballs who, upon closer inspection, turned out to be adorable little Siamese kittens. They were born in the house of some friends in Monahans to their cat, Cross-Eyes. We took them home to the ranch where they had to be bottle-fed (with a doll bottle) for a couple of weeks. Sonny named them Fifteen and Sixteen. Fifteen was a female and Sixteen a male. Sixteen was my favorite. When they were about three months of age, we left them in the care of the Mexican caretaker of the main ranch while we were away for a few days. When we returned, we learned the sad news that Sixteen had been killed by the caretaker's horse that had been tethered in their front yard. The caretaker said that Sixteen ran up one of the horse's legs as though it had been a tree trunk -- and the horse stomped it to death. Everyone remaining got along well together. Fifteen seemed to actually like the dogs and they tolerated her.

When Chiquita was about three years old and Spud and Fifteen one year old, we found it necessary to move to a town. The town we chose was Pyote, Texas, located about fifteen miles west of Monahans, Texas in West Texas. We bought a very modest house in Pyote which served us well for about six years. I believe Chiquita, Spud, and Fifteen were happier at that location more than at any other place where they have lived. Our house sat on four lots, one of which was a corner lot, and there was no other house on the entire block, though there were houses across the street. I think that the relative isolation plus the fact that the house had a pet door so that they could come and go as they please (no litter box either!) was what made all of them so happy there.

It was while living in the house on Third Street that Fifteen became pregnant for the first time. I was looking forward to having some cute little kittens playing all over the house. But it was not to be. Fifteen miscarried. In a few weeks, she tried it again. This time, all the kittens were stillborn, except for one pitifully deformed one. The deformed kitten was black and white, very pretty, but it's legs were grotesquely twisted and its chin jutted out a long way past its face. That was when I consciously noted that Fifteen's chin jutted out from her face in the same way, but not so prominently. I immediately realized that everyone's interests, especially the kitten's, would be served well if the kitten were to be humanely destroyed as soon as possible. That's what my head told me, but my heart wouldn't let me do it. It was times like this that made me wish Sonny had a local job instead of working on a ranch in New Mexico and coming home only on weekends. (He later asked me, "What made you think I could have destroyed the kitten!?) And so it was that the poor little deformed kitten lived for three days. Fifteen kept it in a box that I had prepared in advance for her kittens, but only if I kept the box in the same room with me. Fifteen appeared to be proud of her baby and stayed in the box with it most of the time as any good mother would do. But Chiquita was more than proud of it; she was obssessed by it! Chiquita parked herself beside the box and refused to leave it. In those three days, I never saw Chiquita leave to eat, drink, or to do anything else. If Chiquita was not lying down beside the box asleep, she was hanging over the top edge of the box gawking at the kitten. Fifteen left the box frequently to eat, drink, and do other things. And each time, the very instant that Fifteen jumped out of the box, Chiquita would jump into the box. While Fifteen was gone, Chiquita would lie in the box and lick and just generally "mother" the kitten. But Chiquita always went back to her post outside the box whenever Fifteen returned.

On the evening of the third day, I discovered that the kitten had died, but Chiquita and Fifteen did not seem to have noticed - they continued their "mothering" as before. And I was suddenly faced with the task of disposing of the dead baby. In an effort to distract the two "mothers," I opened some strong-smelling canned food and set it out in the kitchen. I then went back to the box in the living room. Fifteen soon smelled the food and left the room. But Chiquita refused to budge. In desperation, I grabbed the dead, stiff kitten and hurriedly left the house, headed for the garbage can by the side of the street. For the rest of my life, I will never forget Chiquita jumping toward my hand, every step of the way, trying desperately to grab the kitten away from me. At our first opportunity, we had Fifteen spayed. The world didn't need any more experiences of that nature.

We later moved to a different place in Pyote by trading for a better house. It also was on an entire block by itself and was on the edge of town, being quite isolated. There was a graded alley running the length of the block which became our trail to walk every morning. As soon as I had my first or second cup of coffee and my fourth or fifth cigarette, I was ready to take our morning constitutional. Chiquita, Spud, and I would leave the house to begin the walk, when Fifteen would usually come running up from behind to catch up. She would then walk the rest of the way with us and act as if she was "one of the dogs." Sonny has said he's spent many a morning watching from one of the kitchen windows as I walked down the alley. He said he saw, above the tall weeds, three furry tails pointing toward the sky, bobbing up and down behind me.

We encountered a problem with Fifteen after our move to the second house. It seems that Fifteen decided that she had rather not move with us. The old house and the new house were only a few blocks apart. After moving Fifteen, and keeping her contained at the new house for a few days, she
decided to go back to the old place (which was vacant) as soon as she was set free. Being a dutiful cat owner, I went after her and brought her back, only to have her go back again as soon as she got a chance to get out the door. This repeated several times until I decided to just leave her at the old house for a few days. "Perhaps that would teach her a lesson," I thought. Well, three or four days was all I could take. I went after her. When I drove into the driveway at the old place, she obviously recognized my car because she ran to it, meowing all the way. I didn't have to open the door to get her. She jumped in an open window, and "talked to me" all the way home - probably telling me how hungry she was. Satisfied that she had learned her lesson, I put all worry about the situation out of my mind. Fifteen stayed at the new place for about a week, then went back to the old place. Several more times I left her at the old place for a while, sometimes even up to two weeks. Each time I went after her, it was a repeat of what had happened the first time, and it went on like this as long as we lived in Pyote. She was always ecstatic to see me, always jumping into the car and ready to go home. For a few days after returning home, she would seem satisfied, but then I would notice a faraway look in her eyes as she scanned the horizon in the direction of the old house. She would walk a few feet in that direction, then stretch her neck forward as though trying to see the old house in the distance. The next I knew, she would be gone again.

When the little family was about eight to ten years of age, we moved from Pyote to Sanderson, Texas. We moved into the jailer's apartment in the courthouse at Sanderson. We had a private fenced yard, but it was about the size of a postage stamp. Yet it was big enough for Fifteen. She would get outside the fence to sit on the hood of one of the patrol cars, but as soon as she saw movement of any kind, she would jump back over the fence into the yard. For the first time since moving from the old house in Pyote, Fifteen stayed at home. I believe the size of the courthouse building and grounds and so many people coming and going intimidated her somewhat, so she decided to play it safe. Plus she was getting older, and perhaps a little more settled.

While living at the courthouse, Fifteen wormed her way into the heart of the Terrell County Sheriff, Dalton Hogg. He would "babysit" her whenever we were away on trips. During the Christmas parties for the courthouse employees, there was always a present under the tree for "Kitty Fifteen" from the sheriff. The only time that Fifteen was lured away from her own yard was to go with the rest of us on our daily walks. We no longer had an alley to walk and not many wild flowers to look at, but we had an entire city block of green grass and pecan trees with a large flowing fountain filled with huge goldfish.

On September 8, 1994, we also lost Fifteen. She appeared to be fine until a few days before her death when she began to sleep a lot more than she usually did. When I noticed that she was sleeping in strange places (in the bathtub and behind the trash container) I made an appointment for the next morning to take her to Dr. Seale in Del Rio. The next morning, as we were getting ready to leave for Del Rio, she died. She also is buried in the back yard under a large mesquite tree not too far from where Spud is buried.

Memorial To Our Feline Family Members

Created by Matt Lake of Matt's Web Design on September 14, 1998, and last updated on March 29,2003.