Nine Lives Are Not Enough

PEABODYinFLORIDA 1992-2006

UPDATE: Had "the talk" with Sophia last night. Tough break for this little kid. First her pop-pop, now her beloved little buddy Mr. P. She wants to get a new Peabody and name it......you guessed it, Peabody. Of all the events you can shield your child from, death is not one of them. Death sucks.


PinF loves cats. Not dogs-- cats. I tolerate dogs, I like dogs, I also admire dog owners' dedication to their pets; because unlike the cat they require much more "involvement". Want to experiment with the idea of having a child? Get a dog. You have to walk them, keep them out of things, clean up their poop and basically raise them as steadfastly as a two year-old child. Cats? Well they are independent, clean, and come with a built in program of survival. Unlike the dog, the cat is a predator and hunter; more importantly the cat is not a pack animal, but rather a solitary animal--- one that relishes it's solitary life of sleeeping up to 18 hours a day while it's owner is away, then patrolling the night time hours as it's owner rests comfortably. Try as man may, you cannot remove the predatory tendancies of a cat, something that fascinates me. I guess that's why cats have nine lives...because they're so damn rested.

PinF's lifestyle dictates his pet be self sufficient, quiet, and clean. So give PinF a cat anyday. When travelling it's nice to know I can leave a clean littler box, several strategically placed bowls of water and food and know that my animal is good to go. Try this with a dog. Most likely your house will resemble pooptown with a few articles of furniture chewed for spite.

PinF has had a Maine Coon cat for 15 years, Mr. Peabody is his name. He was adopted by PinF and his brother Flash back in 1993 from a woman in Philadelphia who was on the verge of an emotional break down due to a divorce and her landlord's edict that she get rid of four of her five exotic cats she was co-habitating with in a 800 sq. ft. apartment. Flash and I were imediately taken with Mr. Peabody when we visited to look over the "goods". She had a collection of cats that spanned the feline genus; a siamese, a persian, a ragdoll, a tabby, and standing tall as all the others scattered--- was 20lb. Mr. Peabody. We knew immediately he was "the one". This shook his very unstable owner to the core, and as Flash went out to the car to fetch the much to small small cat carrier, Peabody's owner broke down in a fit of tears crying "..he's my favorite..." in my arms. It was not pretty, and a bit much more than I had bargained for. My mouth was uttering words I tried to take back like "you can visit him anytime you want"....Flash came back in and was wondering what the hell had happened in the five minutes he had stepped out.

Maine Coons are much more than just cats as anyone who has ever owned one will tell you. They are true companions. They are also an indigenous feline to North America, big, strong, and eternally playful. They are incredibly dextrous with their paws and will open doors and clutch things like a child would with a hand. They are very durable, and extremely loyal. Maine Coons were originally from Maine and were nototious for their skills at ridding farms of vermin, so they were endeared to generations of farmers. More than anything the MC is quite unlike many other breeds in that they are very people oriented, gregarious, and downright friendly cats. Choosing always to be in whatever room their owners occupy, almost to annoyance. If I'm in the shower he's stretched out on the bathroom rug, cooking?--he's on the floor in front of the stove. You get the picture.

Over the past 15 years Mr. Peabody has defended me from bats, squirrels, dogs, raccons, and mice. Most recently he has been called on to repel the reptilian invaders all around PinF's headquarters, killing no less than 500 lizards since moving to Florida 9 years ago. About seven years ago PinF was awoken at 4AM to the most un-Godly noises I had ever heard--clearly a fight was in progress, something Mr. Peabody never really got into much so I rushed downstairs in my underwear and threw on the outside lights to see what was going on. In my haste I gashed my big toe open; at the time I had a pool and and a one year-old so I had the child fence around the pool to prevent Sophia from access. In my still half asleep state I could make out a huge ball of snarling fur running, fighting, snapping, and splashing within the fence. I quickly went back in and grabbed a broom and came back to break up what I believed to be a "cat" fight.....as I came upon the the furious ball of fur I relaized that it was a racoon--not one but two! Peabody was on top of one with a throat hold, while its mate was on top of Peabody.

By this time I was fearful for my trusty mate's life, so I rushed the now snarling and backtracking racoons with the broom handle, swinging and prepared to kill the raccoon to protect Mr. Peabody. The first raccoon leapt 6 ft. over the fence, and just as the bottom raccoon stumbled trying to make the fence I swatted the snarling pest. He was clearly injured from his engagement as he scurried up the fence with a lame front paw and a now sore backside. Mr. Peabody had opened a family size can of whoop-ass on him, I was quite sure that these coons being the smart animals they are wouldn't be back through these parts again. By this time the adrenelan was pumping hard as I grabbed the soaking wet Mr. P in a towel and brought him inside for a post battle inspection. He was clearly freaked--shaking and soaked. As I was to find out later from the vet, the raccoon will often take the fight to the water in order to use his webbed feet in an attempt to drown his adversary. Poor Mr. P!. At first light I called work and hurried Mr. Peabody over to the Vet where he was seen immediately, fearing the worst-- my wife said her good-byes in advance. I was sure due to rabies and such that Mr. Peabody's valiant fight may have cost him his life. Much to my surprise after an intense head to tail inspection Mr. Peabody showed no skin breaks what so ever!! He was issued a rabies booster and awarded a unanimous decision over two wild animals! The Vet had explained that due to Mr. Peabody's size (almost 24 inches long, and 20lbs.) and his thick, long, waterproof coat of hair he was able to surprise, over power, and dominate not one--but two raccoons.

It was further discovered to be trash day, as such the coons were doing what coons do--trash picking. The hour of the night and the fact that the coons were traveling in a pair further suggested that they were not rabid but were healthy, curious, albeit very unlucky-- coons, that just happened to take a short cut through Mr. P's domain, violating his perimeter. Being the incredibly vigilant cat that he was--he engaged the "enemy". All of this with no front claws. He was afforded macho hero status in the Vet that day, and I as his owner could not have been prouder of what he had done. For to know cats, you must also know that as solitary animals they see their owners as their parents; as such he was protecting me and my perimeter. Conversely, dogs are pack animals, and have Alpha leaders, humans walking behind their dogs on a leash essentially are showing their place in the "pack" to their dog.

Mr. Peabody is old now. I noticed he had been losing weight since the hurricane something I had attributed to his getting lost for 6 days, possibly he had eaten something that had given him parasites? This combined with the fact of his old age. Still, after being away for three weeks for my father's death I returned and saw Mr. P. very differently. I rushed him over to the Vet where he was subjected to a battery of tests and lab work. The initial diagnosis was hyperthyroidism, a controllable condition, so my hopes were high as I left the Vet Friday night. I received a call yesterday that all the labs were normal, as such they would need to do an X-ray on Mr. P. So back we went, me and "Mr. Famous", as the staff had read his file and were aware of his bravery in battle. I no sooner arrived home and my phone rang. It was the Vet and she said she had "bad news", the X-ray had revealed a large mass on Mr. Peabody's liver. I was stunned. I could not say anything, the Vet could sense my shock and said nothing, allowing me time to absorb this. My options are clear, but due to his age, and the size of the mass, she advised I should probably put him down. Loss is becoming a recurring theme in PinF's life as of late. Yes he is "just a cat", and yes he's lived a long, faithful, and fun life. He's even gotten to live in a tropical climate, freeing him from the "housecat" chains he was raised under in Philadelphia. But he's my buddy.

The one true constant in my life despite all the up's and down's and incredible changes I've experienced--has always been P and me. He is my last connection to Philadelphia, and his passing represents much more than that of a pet, but of an era, one which saw me leave everything in Philadelphia except my buddy, Mr. P. The moves from Philadelphia and around Florida, the hurricanes, the divorce, all of it-- he's been there. This era ends Monday. I have the week-end to explain death once again to Sophia and to pamper Mr. Peabody, as she has been Mr. P's biggest admirer for ALL of her life. PinF has had many pets in his life--none like Mr. Peabody, he was a giant amongst his peers. His size was small compared to the joy he brought and the loyalty and love he so unselfishly showed us. PinF is trying to find the message in all the loss. It's in there, I know. For now I shall focus on indulging Mr. Peabody with all his desires--shrimp, salmon, raw hamburger. He's going out the way he's always longed to live--in gluttony.