That Darn (Amazing) Cat

Growing up as a child, I was raised alongside two Doberman pinschers. Even as an infant, I showed no fear of these massive dogs that at the time I could have ridden around the house like horses. In fact, sometimes my sister and I did just that. As the years passed, my family became almost a safe house for sick or abandoned animals. Give us your tired, your poor... We turned no animal away. Soon, the roster under our roof began to resemble Dr. Doolittle’s patient records. Two dogs multiplied into multiple cats, none of which my dad was fond of.. But he tolerated them simply because they made my mom happy.

Then one November during my sophomore year of high school, this black stray cat came wandering up to our front door step. He had a purple collar and a name tag that only read: Clayton.

Turns out he belonged to a neighbor of ours. But since the break up with her boyfriend (the one that got him for her), she had dumped him out of the house and made him an outdoor cat. Clayton began to wander the streets and do whatever it is outdoor cats do all day long. But his favorite place to hang was on the roof with my dad as he hung Christmas lights and listened to the Beatles’ greatest hits. Anyone who has seen my house at Christmas time knows the ordeal that goes into the Sterger family Christmas display. It’s a labor of love (for my mother anyway) that usually takes my dad anywhere from 3 days to a week not including the weekend prior of yard work. Spending all this time outside, my dad had plenty of time to bond with this cat, who did nothing more than keep my dad company and chase an occasional bug or two.

It wasn't long before all of us had a chance to bond with Clayton, who seemed more human than any of us could have imagined. That's because there was something different about this cat. He had this amazing personality that for an independent character was still somehow personable. He was playful and even dare I say funny. He loved to be bounced on his stomach, yet was the first to snuggle up to you when you needed comfort. My sister would sit outside and play with him. My mom would put out food for him in the morning.

The cat had everything but the roof over its head. And that was about to change.
One day when my dad was out of town on business, my sister snuck Clayton into her room. She figured, we had enough cats, what was one more?

Much to our surprise my dad didn't seem to mind the new refugee. He actually welcomed him. His only concern was whether or not Clayton's owner would give him up. So my mom and my sister walked down to the neighbor’s house, to ask her for the cat. The lady nearly laughed at her request and said if she wanted the mangy thing, it was all hers. And like that, Clayton became a Sterger.

Several years, and some stray additions later, Clayton began to act funny. I don't remember why we first took him to the doctor, but I think it was these sores he would get in his fur. We figured he probably just had some kind of dermatitis or something from his frolicking sessions in the backyard as he watched my father build a new shed. Turns out it was something far worse.

Clayton had AIDS.

Most people think AIDS is something reserved for humans and monkeys, but actually cats have developed their own type of immuno-deficiency disorder, FIV. We don't know how long he had had it, but we figured he got it in the few months the previous owner had dumped him on the street.

We were faced with the tough decision of whether or not to put Clayton down. The thing is, aside from the blisters, Clayton really had an amazing quality of life. He was already neutered so.. We didn't have to worry about that. While he was playful he was far from aggressive so he wouldn't be fighting anyone either. And if he was going to expose any of the other cats to it, well.. The cat was beyond out of the bag at this point.

My mom called my dad who was once again on the road and asked him what to do in this situation. Like any patient with AIDS, Clayton would need constant medical attention and treatment, including Depo Medrol shots and two years of Baytril pulse therapy…So after some discussion with our vet, my parents vowed to do everything they could to ensure quality of life for this animal that had become the glue that held this family together. They also promised that if that quality of life ever dimmed to nothingness, they would do the right thing and end his suffering.

Two years later, we had tackled 30 or so depo shots and had seen our share of ups and downs like anyone that has a serious illness like Clayton's. The smallest cuts or infections needed to be tended to like medical emergencies simply because his health was beyond compromised. But he was still Clayton, even on his down days. He’d do funny things to make us laugh, sit outside with us on the swing when the weather was nice, and cuddle with us when life got tough.

Then the other day, my mom noticed Clayton wasn't touching his food. Not the canned stuff, the carved turkey. He even snubbed his nose at the bite of filet was offered. So my mom loaded him up and took him to our vet.

This time however was different. He didn't necessarily look sick, just tired. His heart rate was a little off, but he still looked like Clayton. The vets ran a bunch of blood work to test all of his levels and make sure the depo shots hadn't thrown off any of his systems’ functions. They monitored him for a few hours, and when all seemed fine they sent him home.

That night however, things turned for the worse. Clayton had made a bed for himself in a pile of jackets he found in my dad’s office and seemed reasonably content. Until sometime in the middle of the night when he let out a loud shriek, and bolted from the room. His cries woke my mother who found him shaking uncontrollably and seemingly scared beneath the dining room table. She picked him up and wrapped him in a towel, and held him close. She knew this was not good.

She went and got my father, and told him to come quick.

Clayton was dying.

The two of them sat there, in the dark of night holding their adopted son until he took his last breath.

He was gone.

Since I've been working long hours on my movie, and sleeps been fairly elusive, my mother sent me a text telling me what had happened. I didn't find it til an hour or so later, when I checked my phone.

Tears began to roll down my cheeks, and I excused myself from the set. Seeing how upset I was, the director called our shoot for the remainder of the night and said we would pick up the next day. I went home, sat in my bed, and cried.

My sister and my grandmother both found out in the morning when they woke up to my dad digging a hole out in the backyard. Clayton had loved to be outside, and to hide in the shed while my dad did yard work, so next to the shed seemed only appropriate.

That day we laid to rest one of the most influential members of our family. We had played Russian roulette of treatments 33 times, and the 33rd was our last. We fought every step with him against an illness he got through no fault of his own, only that he had been originally placed with a crappy owner. But at least his misfortunes with her, led him to meeting us. Otherwise we may have never have been fortunate enough to have a chance to love him.

My family has seen its ups and downs through the past few years, but Clayton was one of those hems that kept things from falling apart at the seams. Because as much as Clayton needed us for treatment, we needed him to be a part of our lives more. He touched even the most stoic of hearts in my father, and somehow got him to see beyond his cat loathing ways. He was the goodwill ambassador of cats. The guy that kept the peace between the rest of the feline brood and my dad, that really wasn't all that big of a fan. He had this weird way of sensing our moods and knowing how to cheer all of us up. I think that's why he held on as long as he did. He loved life, outdoors, and sliced turkey. But more importantly he loved all of us. If Clayton taught me anything in my adult life, it's to cherish every moment you have with someone, man, woman or pet. Because pets aren't just animals, they become family. Maybe that's why this one hurt so badly. Clayton wasn't just some cat. He was a brother, a son, and a companion even despite all his hardships.

Some things in life you just can't replace. Clayton will always be one of them.