Sharon Dow

Glimpses into History – Part 12: ‘Tudy’

Once the big move was accomplished (from the flat on Guilford Street to the house on Rodney Street), I waited for the next day and then I reminded my mother that she had promised we could get a cat once we had a house of our own. Now to be fair to my mother, I had not mentioned in for quite some time. I was biding my time. She hesitated, not quite sure if she remembered promising any such thing, but I was persistent and finally wore her down.

My friend Judy’s cat had kittens, so I became the proud owner of a cat named Mittens. This cat was quite non-descript, but I loved him anyway. Alas for Mittens, things were about to get complicated. My aunt and uncle arrived for a visit and knowing my desire for a kitten, came complete with a small orange fluffy ball of pure delight. Now I had two cats! What more could I ask for? I loved both my cats and they seemed to get along well.

My mother was not so easily convinced. She had been talked into one cat; two was not going to happen. I must choose. I remember this being the first time I had to make a heart-rending decision. Do I keep the old (I had only had Mittens a month or so), or should I embrace the new and keep the adorable ball of fluff?

I finally decided to keep the new kitten, and my brother found a friend who was looking for a cat (or who agreed to take it) and Mittens moved to a new home. I felt like a traitor. How could I let him go? But the little orange kitty had won my heart and I soon forgot the old (but never completely).

I named the new addition Tudy. Don’t ask me where I got the name; it just came out of my imagination. I went on to add names until he became Tudy Tiger Tinker Galbraith! However, it was just Tudy for short.

Tudy grew quickly, becoming a large, still fluffy, orange cat. He was beautiful. I insisted he was a female, but several years proved me wrong – no kittens (much to my mother’s relief). He was a family cat, even winning over my mother who came to really love him. He would lounge around the house, finding the spots of sunshine to stretch out his long frame and just enjoy life. He was often relegated to the kitchen as he had a habit of shedding that beautiful fur on anything he touched, but whenever he could, he escaped to the other areas of the house, his domain.

On Friday nights, my mom, dad, and I would go shopping for groceries. When we would arrive home, there was Tudy waiting for us in the driveway. He purred, rubbed up against our legs, meowed and generally made himself agreeable. He knew what was coming! Dad would take out the fresh meat and package it for the fridge or freezer. He always cut off little pieces to give to Tudy. I think Tudy lived for those moments. How he knew it was Friday, I don’t know. But we could come home any other night of the week and there would be no sign of the cat. He only met us on Fridays.

He loved being outdoors at night. Day was for lounging; night was for prowling, at least the early part of the night. He came in most nights at bedtime, but he certainly did stay out all night on occasion. When my brother was out for the evening, Tudy would wait on the front gate for him and they would come in together, probably both jumping over the gate and missing most of the stairs to the front door.

I knew when his birthday was as my aunt Verda had told me when he was born. I always celebrated his special day. One year I talked my mother into letting me have a birthday party for him. I invited the dog from upstairs, and Judy’s cat from down the street. They both agreed to come. I set up my little table and chairs out in the backyard, put treats on the table for the animals and generally made it as nice as I could. The dog arrived first. I forget her name (it might have been Sookie), but she was a beautiful golden spaniel, very quiet and gentle. Judy arrived next with her cat in her arms and a leash and collar on the cat. She had borrowed the leash and collar from a friend. The cat took one look at the dog, got a frantic look on her face, jumped from Judy’s arms and bolted from our yard with the leash trailing behind her. Judy went into a panic because the leash didn’t belong to her and so we spent the rest of the party looking for her cat all over the neighbourhood! Sorry Tudy – that was his first and last party!

I’m afraid I treated Tudy like a doll. I would dress him up in my doll clothes complete with bonnet, put him in my doll carriage, cover him with a doll blanket, and go for a walk around the neighbourhood. The looks on the faces of little old ladies out for a stroll when they would ask to see my doll was priceless. Tudy, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the whole event, simply going to sleep for the extent of the ride.

I don’t think he was supposed to be on my bed at night, but he often managed to make his way to my bedroom, hop on the bed, and snuggle down with the stuffed animals (of which there were many). He stayed until some inner voice called him away on a cat errand, or my mother caught him. I loved having him on my bed as he purred contentedly and lulled me to sleep.

In the last blog, I mentioned the roomers we had on the main level. At one time, a couple lived there who loved the cat and he would sometimes sneak in with them. They treated him like their own, often saving him little scraps of food. The way to Tudy’s heart was certainly through his stomach. When we would be going away for a couple of days, they always volunteered to look after him. One time when we got back, they told us a funny story. They had fish chowder for supper and gave him a bowl. He went at it greedily and licked the bowl clean. When he moved away from the bowl, everything was gone except a ring of onions around the edge. Apparently he didn’t like onions and picked them out as he was eating!

Being an outdoor cat, he got dirty. So, we decided to give him a bath. We put a tub on the table and popped him in. It is a gross understatement to say he was not impressed. It took two of us to hold him and another to wash him. I was appalled to see how little cat there was under all that gorgeous fluff. I think his dignity was offended as the water washed over him. We lifted him out, amid cat yowls which had started with the first drop of water and did not cease, and wrapped him in a towel to dry him. He fought every step of the way. I’m sure I was covered with scratches when we were done. We had to go out for the evening, so we left him in the kitchen to finish drying, with the doors closed to the other parts of the house. The sights and smells that met us when we came home was just punishment for daring to give him a bath! He had his revenge. First bath = last bath!

One morning Tudy came home with a broken tail. The end was just hanging. His beautiful tail was disfigured. The wound healed, but the end piece had died and would never again stand tall like the rest of the tail. We soon discovered that he had no feeling in it. Sometimes we would accidently step on it but Tudy never flinched. My dad was in the basement one day and Tudy was with him, lying in a beam of sunlight. Dad grabbed a small ax and cut off the end of the tail. Tudy continued to sunbathe, completely unaware of the surgery. From then on, he had a shortened tail, but he would walk around with it in the air as though there was no change in it.

Then Tudy got sick, really sick. My mom and dad called the Animal Rescue League and they came and got him. They said he would be put to sleep and be out of his misery. I was filled with grief for my beautiful cat. I knew he was better off not having to suffer, but I missed him so much. Gradually other things filled my mind and I put my grieving aside. There was no moving my mother: no more cats.

About a year later, I was having breakfast one morning and looked out the kitchen window. A large orange cat was sitting in our yard. I told my mom that Tudy was back. She did not believe me, but one of us tapped on the window and pointed to the door, which was always our signal to Tudy, and he looked up at the window then quickly ran to the back door. I frantically ran to meet him along with the family. When we opened the door, he came running in, ran right to where we always kept his dish, turned around and meowed as if to say, “Where is my food.”

It was him, cropped tail and all. We never did find out what had happened to him. Did he escape on the ride to the shelter, did they see he was a beautiful cat and nurse him back to health, then maybe put him up for adoption and he ran away? It didn’t matter, he was home. We had several more years with him and his wonderful personality and antics.

He was my friend and he ruled our house for the years he was with us.  He captivated the hearts of all four of us and we all missed him when he finally left us. He left us with memories to recount through the years.