MR. TIBBS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

When I first moved into my humble little farmhouse, the first soul I met wasn’t human. It was a golden patched tabby cat, sitting under my giant pine tree. The date was August 20, 2021.
I said, “Well, hello there!”
He meowed a barely audible, “Meow.”
This was Mr. Tibbs.

From that day on, he came by nearly every day. He loved food. He loved cream. He especially loved catnip. Me? Meh – He tolerated me. For four solid years, if I came too close, I earned the same reply: HHHHHHHHHHHHH!! He’d take a couple swats at me as well. He was truly feral.

I remember an occasion or two that I snuck a few pets. He hissed in outrage. And punched me.

Around our fourth year anniversary, I noticed the change. He was getting thinner. He had trouble eating. He drooled. He still rolled in catnip, but he looked ragged and weary. I fed him baby food and gravy, slipped “natural antibiotics” into his meals, and watched him fight to stay himself. Days later, upon closer inspection, he had infected mouth ulcers. When he groomed himself, he’d cry in pain.

One evening, he stopped in the middle of the street, sat down, and would not move any farther. He meowed when I called. He looked so thin, so dirty, so tired. I went to him. I let him sniff the tub of catnip. He had zero interest.

I bent down and, for the very first time, put my hands gently around him and lifted him into my arms. He did not resist. He rested his head on my arm and … purred. I held him until he signaled he was done. Which was quite awhile. I went to get him food and cream, but when I came back he had already wandered down to the creek. He paused, looked over his shoulder at me then trudged away along the water’s edge.

I called a vet and planned to take him in the next day. I would hold him as he crossed over.
But he never returned. For three days, his bowls of fresh/refreshed food and cream sat untouched. His catnip piles lay waiting. I’ve been around and raised enough animals to know: Mr. Tibbs was gone.

I sat on my porch and ugly cried.

After blowing my nose in my shirt, I noticed a yellow flower blooming out of season. Was it a message from the Great Kitty Beyond? I decided it was. And I read into it: You done right by me. (God, I hope so).

I went for a walk.

And then something strange happened. I came home from said walk and found this guy waiting on my porch:

He rolled in Mr. Tibbs’s catnip, ate all his food, drank all his cream. He rubbed against me, purred, and claimed the porch like it was his. This is Mr. Tibbs II, aka JUNIOR.

The next day, other familiar and unfamiliar cats appeared as well, as if gathering for … A wake!!

The other cats went their separate ways. The neighborhood couple ate an entire tub of peanuts making quite the mess and left. In the wee hours I drove Mr. Whiskers home. But Mr. Tibbs II / Junior stayed. For several days, he was glued to my side — a very proper mourning. Perhaps he was just making sure I would be alright.
And he’s still here.

I will forever miss Mr. Tibbs: The Feral King Under The Giant Pine.
The one who let me hold him only once.