Tyler’s Story Part Four: 12/9/2000“

Originally published on my old, still partially active blogger blog in late April of 2015. WOW do I love Medium better.

What does that mean?” I asked my mother. Serious? A cat doesn’t smile, they ALWAYS look serious.

“I don’t know, he looks like an owl, or a bandit. He has a serious look on his face.”

“I think he’s cool looking.” My father replied. Well, thank god at least he shares my opinion.

We went inside. Now, as I said, we were living high on the hog in those days. My father had a well-paying job, my mother had several credit cards with a large amount of credit, and me….well…..I was just starting out in the museum world as a budding curator. What’s a curator? Even I never really figured that out.

After a lifetime in Brooklyn, we escaped to Long Island in late 1996 to a newly built….large house. I never knew the type. Ranch, split ranch, colonial, imperial, continental, a realtor I’m not. It was large and it had 3 floors, skylights, and a hot tub in the master bath, a built in sound system (pre-Sonos) and a large pool with an electric cover. It was a NICE house. The basement in and of itself was three times the size of my current apartment. I miss that house. I miss that pool. I miss having rich parents. I wasn’t spoiled, OK, maybe I was a little, but I still miss it.

It was decided that Tyler would be confined to the basement until he gets used to things. Mind you, “confined” was hardly the term. There were: 2 couches, a wall length bookcase and wall unit, full carpeting, a ping pong table, and a full marble bathroom with shower. Trust me, Tyler hardly suffered.

We all went downstairs, my mother closing the door behind us. Cats for Dummies said to let the new cat out right by the litter box, so they know where it is and don’t shit on everything. At least that’s the theory. It somehow imprints on their brain or something. Apparently with a kitten you even need to go as far as putting them in the litter box and digging the litter with their paws so it becomes instinctual. Hey, no matter, it beats having to walk a dog in the freezing cold at 5 in the morning.

Finally….everything was ready.

Food? Check.

Litter? Check.

Cat toys and beds? Check.

Here we go!

I opened the carrier door.

Tyler strode out as if he already owned the place.

As any cat owner knows it’s quite common, even expected, for a cat to run and hide the second they are brought into a new home or environment. Cats are fiercely territorial, so it takes them time to acclimate to a new environment. Some take days, some take weeks, even longer. If done right, a cat is slowly introduced to a new environment a room at a time until they get used to the lay of the land. Each cat is different, and adjusts at their own pace, so patience is needed.

None of those rules applied to Tyler.

Tyler was, without a doubt, the happiest cat on earth on that early Saturday afternoon in December of 2000. His tail shot straight in the air as he began scoping out his new territory.

His purr was so loud you would have been able to hear it from the international space station.

He smelled and rubbed everything, climbed every possible surface, and left his mark on every piece of everything.

Once that was done he jumped on the ping pong table and proceeded to rub, purr, flip on his back, wriggle, and head-but us non-stop for the next TWO HOURS. I kid you not. He was thrilled to be home with us. THRILLED.

I have to tell you my father could not stop smiling. This man, this “pop” of mine, who always said NO to me when I would ask over and over for a pet, was giddy as a child in a toy store.

“You weren’t kidding Daniel. I like his style.” He said, beaming. He hadn’t been this happy since the last George Carlin HBO special. Like I said, TV was very important.

“He’s cute, but he’s going to get black hair all over my furniture.” My mother was less convinced. A little stand-offish even, even though she was loving the attention. My mother even went so far as to thank Tyler every time he would rub her or head-but her.

“Oh, thank you, Tyler” she would say. The way my mother spoke it sounded more like Toy-LAH.

“Ma, you don’t have to be so polite. Cats rub, he’s marking you as his territory.” I explained.

“Oh, OK.” She didn’t quite “read cat” yet.

Finally after 2 hours of cat bliss, Tyler found the red easy chair that was on one side of the room, curled up, and passed out cold, still purring.

“Dan-YUL, I have bagels and whitefish spread, are you hungry?” Dumb question. I was always hungry.

“Sure, let’s eat.” Those 3 words were the happiest words my mother ever heard.

“He looks like he wants to sleep anyway.” My father, justifying his desire to eat and watch cable and probably check the weather forecast. My father rarely did anything outside, why he needed to check the weather 200 times a day was beyond me. Did he have a crop somewhere that he was hiding from us?

I was hungry, sure, but I felt more than hunger. I felt……AMAZING. I cannot exaggerate enough the emotions that were overcoming me. After SEVENTEEN years, I finally had a cat of my own. In my home. A young, healthy cat that will bond with me and be my pal. My confidant. My best friend. Who will love me unconditionally, no matter what I looked like or what mood I was in.

There is nothing in the world to truly describe the feeling of rescuing, SAVING, a shelter animal and giving it a home. A FOREVER home. It’s just the best feeling, and I have had the good fortune to have experienced that feeling four times in my 41 years. Knowing that you saved that animal from a stressful, harmful environment, even death in the case of some shelters. Knowing that he had a home, with me, and being able to experience Tyler’s true JOY was the best feeling in the world. Seeing Tyler’s joy at knowing that this was HIS home now and that he would never have to be in a shelter again as long as he lived was the most heart-warming emotion I have ever felt. Better than sex, better than wine, better than the finest meal on the planet. Will I ever really know what Tyler’s life was before I adopted him? No, I’ll take Gayle at her word, but you never really know for sure if they’re just laying it on thick or not. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was his life from that point on would be a great life. I owed that to him. I would see to that.

I let my parents go upstairs first and went over to Tyler. He was already in a deep sleep, curled up and purring gently. The picture of contentment.

“I love you already Tyler. You’re my boy. You will want for NOTHING. It’s just you and me from now on.”

He looked up at me, squinted his eyes and purred. I scratched his chin and he closed his eyes and picked his head up, signaling his enjoyment.

Then he went back to sleep, the happiest cat in the world.