On 01 May 1994, Colors — the Custom Box Service shop cat — gave birth to a litter of kittens. I found them tucked in a corner of the paint room when they were just a few hours old. Because Colors seemed to consider me her “boyfriend”, she allowed me to touch the tiny, fragile babies.
Toto is the little black ball in the bottom of this photo
Over the next few weeks, the kittens grew into explosive bundles of fur. One of the kittens, the black one, we named Shredder because he was always attacking things and trying to tear them apart.
About this time, Kris and I bought our first house. We made an offer, had it accepted, and prepared to close on 23 June 1994. On June 21st, on a whim, I brought the entire litter of kittens to spend the night in our apartment. Kris’ cat, Tintin, was taken aback by the little balls of fur; the kittens just ran and played. Well, except for Shredder. Shredder was more fascinated by the baked potato Kris was eating for dinner. When Kris’ back was turned, Shredder grabbed the peel and tried to run off with it.
“I want to keep one of the kittens,” I told Kris. “I want to keep Shredder.”
For a long time, Toto lived up to her original name, Shredder
Kris was reluctant, but agreed. So, when we moved into our new home a couple of days later, Shredder came to live with us. And about this time, we figured out Shredder was a she. She and Tintin spent the entire first day hiding in the back of the cupboard under the bathroom sink.
We decided we didn’t like the name Shredder, but couldn’t come up with anything better. It was Kris’ sister, Tiffany, who hit upon the name Toto, and it stuck.
For the next seven years, the four of us — Tintin, Toto, Kris, and J.D. — lived happily in the Canby house. Tintin and Toto got along great. They never really snuggled, as some cats will, but they hung out together, and they played together. Toto loved curling up in a bowl on the kitchen table. She also loved Outside. She was a fearsome hunter, often bringing in birds for us to see.
Toto used to be hell on goldfinches
Once, while we were watching the Summer Olympics (in 1996?), Toto brought a live bird into the living room and released it. It scared the hell out of me. I was eating a bowl of brothy soup, which I promptly spilled all over my lap. The poor, bloody bird kept trying to fly up through the ceiling. It left a series of red marks on the paint before we were able to capture and release it. Toto was very, very proud.
Though she was fond of birds, Toto loved nothing more than a delicious complex carbohydrate. Especially if she could share it with Kris. She was always begging for baked potatoes, bagels with cream cheese, and — her favorite — corn on the cob. She also loved tuna fish. She and Kris were a dangerous pair. Kris would often leave half-full glasses of water sitting around; Toto would tip them over and drink the spill. (This continued Toto’s entire life.) If you’ve ever wondered why our dining-room table looks so distressed, it’s because of Kris and Toto and their glasses of water.
Toto on Christmas Eve 2010, begging for Aunt Steph’s pizza
Toto was scared of few things in life. She was the Boss. But she had an irrational fear of bananas. No joke. If you held a banana to her, she would cower from it and hiss. I have no idea why.
In 2001, Toto’s best friend died. Tintin faded from diabetes and had to be put down in the fall. Toto never understood this, and she seemed to lose a part of herself once Tintin was gone. Though we acquired new cats — Satchel, Simon, Nemo, and Max — she never befriended them. (She hated Satchel and Nemo, had an uneasy truce with Simon, and tolerated Max, that lovable lug.) She always seemed to pine for Tintin.
I don’t have a photo of Toto and Tintin handy, so here’s a photo of Tintin alone
When we moved to our new house in 2004, Toto didn’t adjust well. Whereas she used to love Outside, she now spent most of her time indoors. After just a few weeks here, we went on a cruise to Alaska with Kris’ parents. My cousin Nick acted as housesitter and cat caretaker. While we were gone, Toto had a veterinary crisis. She suffered from heat stroke, or something like it, and almost died.
After that, she was never quite the same. She had always been a bit of a grouch, but now her attitude was that of a constant crank. She growled and hissed and wasn’t very social. But I loved her anyhow.
Toto, enjoying the sun
In fact, I loved Toto more than I’ve ever loved an animal. I knew her from the day she was born. She and I had a sort of bond that I haven’t even experienced with another human, not even Kris. We seemed to understand each other. For much of the past seventeen years, she was my constant companion. When I was working from home, she was always by my side. When I ate dinner, she sat next to me, waiting for her turn at the plate. She may not have been friendly to others — especially Aunt Pam — but she loved me, and I loved her.
Toto and Max, helping me write about money
Last summer, Toto started showing signs that she was getting old. She had trouble getting around. She couldn’t jump as well as she used to. She started missing the litterbox — she couldn’t squat when she peed. So, we banished her Outside. She complained at first, but gradually learned to love it. In fact, it was like she had forgotten about Outside when we moved, but was now remembering all of its many charms.
Toto used to be an active cat
When the cold set in, she was less content to be Outside, though. But we couldn’t have her inside all the time, because she was peeing outside the litterbox. We compromised. She could be inside while we were home, but had to stay Outside when we were away (or asleep). We rigged up a box with a heating pad, which she seemed to like, though she preferred to sit on Kris’ computer…
Toto would often sit on Kris’ keyboard
What Toto loved, though, was the wicker basket that Kris gave her. We put a heating pad on the bottom of that, too, and set it on the kitchen floor. That’s where Toto lived from the time we returned from France in late October until just this morning.
Toto on the porch with her raccoon friends
Last night, I notice that Toto was lethargic. Also, she wouldn’t purr, even when I petted her in the sure-fire spots (like her chest — she loved to have her chest stroked). She didn’t want to lay down. She simply sat upright in her basket, staring ahead. She looked like she felt sick. Though I’d spent months trying to deny the inevitable, even I had to admit: Her time had come.
Toto, remembering she loves Outside
This morning, I let Toto in from the front porch. She meowed and begged for food, just like always. I gave her some fresh water, some dry food, and her favorite flavor of wet food (Ocean Whitefish and Tuna). I sat at the dining-room table to do some work while she ate. When she finished, she hopped up on a chair, and then onto the table. But she grunted and growled as she did so. It hurt her. She came up to me by the computer and rubbed her head against me. I petted her, and she purred. But only for a little bit. Then she just sat there, letting me rub her, but not purring. Then she hopped down and curled up in her basket.
Toto’s final night
It hurt me more than I can express, but I unplugged the heating pad and curled the cord next to her, picked up the basket, and carried it to the car. I drove her to the vet. Toto didn’t put up her usual fuss, though at one point she looked at the car ceiling and let out a yowl. At 9:10am, I sat with her and cried (oh, how I cried) as the vet put her to sleep.
And then I came home and buried my baby girl.
Toto Gates, 01 May 1994 – 05 February 2011
Such a lovely tribute.
Wow. Very nice.
You had me in tears, but it sounded like it was time to say good bye.
aw, that’s really sad. It’s good that she had a long run with you, and it was thoughtful of her to go before you were out of town for weeks! Still, poor little Toto, and poor Kris & J.D.
Sorry to hear that, J.D., but this is a wonderful remembrance of her.
It sounds like you had the same relationship with Toto that I had with my late cat Jefferson.
How sad. I bawled like a baby. I have 4 cats presently but I’ve loved and lost several more. I am an absolute wimp when it comes to that final vet visit and I always have to ask someone else to take my pet in for that shot while I sit outside crying. It takes courage to realize and accept that you have to do that one final thing for your pet, to put them out of their suffering, but even greater courage to be able to stand there while the process is going on in the vet’s exam room.
Oh J.D., I am so sorry for your loss. This is a wonderful tribute to Toto. I’m sure she’s now with her precious TinTin, watching and waiting on her ‘Daddy’.
I read your tribute yesterday and didn’t know what to say, though I wanted to say something about the loss of your companion. I understand your loss and that she wasn’t “just a pet”. Thinking of you.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
I am so sorry for your loss. I had to put one of my dogs to sleep just a few weeks ago after he was attacked, and the pain with the decision and loss is soul deep. He was my baby boy, and oh how I cried as well. My friend sent me this, and while it is written for a dog, and I believe it applies to all creatures whom we loved. Hearts are with you in your time of mourning.
“Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long happy life with you: “Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved.” No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you, and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail.”
-from The Last Will and Testament of an Extremely Distinguished Dog, Eugene O’Neill
What a beautiful tribute to your friend. I’m sorry for your loss.
So sorry for you loss. A wonderful tribute to a well loved family member. I know you are about to go on vacation, maybe Toto wanted to make sure she was with you on her last day.
My condolences. Losing a friend is so very very hard.
That’s a beautiful eulogy, J.D. She was a lucky cat.
Condolences. Glad you’re writing about it – it’s good for all of us.
RIP Toto. Sounds like you had a good run.
All I could think of when I read this was my dog Scout. Like you and Toto, he and I have a special bond (and he loves to get into things – t.p. and food especially). So far he’s shown no signs of aging, but he’s 11 this July and I know the day is coming.
A touching tribute to a lovely lady. Sorry for your loss.
I am sorry, JD and Kris. I know how much you loved Toto.
So sorry to learn of this huge loss. I too was privileged to know Toto briefly, although thankfully she never brought me a live bird while I was eating soup.
I’m so sorry for your loss, J.D. The love of a purring friend, even a cranky one, is irreplaceable.
Just as with humans, we bond more to some animals than to others. You and Toto had that bond. She has like your soul mate. I know than her death was painful, but now you must think back to all the wonderful years that you had together. I was glad that I had a opportunity to know her. I am so sorry for your lose.
JD, thanks for sharing. As a cat person who has said goodbye to faithful homicidal maniacs in fur suits (aka cats), I felt a strong tugging at the heartstrings while reading your eulogy. You had a wonderfully long time together and all these wonderful memories!
That said, I do hope you enjoy your visit to my country (South Africa). If you get down to Cape Town and get desperately lost then feel free to drop a local a line via email!
Cheers
Simon
Just last night, I plucked a little paper carrot – an old Christmas tree ornament, I think – from its usual spot on our bookshelf. In Kris’s handwriting, a note on the paper carrot reads: “To Aimee – May this carrot remind you of good times. Toto.” Toto’s carrot never fails to remind me of good times. We condole with you, but we also celebrate Toto as we knew her and her life well lived: who was always a bit disdainful of others’ unsubtle foibles (e.g., brash, overt attempts to pet), a bit too clever, a bit of Oregonian Egyptian Queen, but always, certainly, classically Toto.
I’m sorry, J.D. 🙁 I read Get Rich Slowly every day in my email and somehow I missed this story about Toto. I may have to start reading your blog here! I clicked the link on the Africa story and then clicked the link from the Africa story to Toto. My cat is not doing so well himself and you have me in tears now. Toto sounds like she was an absolute joy and she was blessed to have you as I’m sure you were certainly blessed by her!
Like Hilary, I came over here from GRS to read about your trip to Africa.
So sorry to hear of Toto’s passing. As a current owner of a beagle/corgi mix, and the past owner of three cats and three dogs over the past 20+ years, I empathize with you. Our animals are part of our family. They don’t care about our faults; they give us unconditional acceptance. They bring joy to our lives.
Such a sad story about Toto’s death. It makes me glad I don’t have any pets. On the other hand, I haven’t had as much fun and furry love in years and years. Every coin has two sides, right?