Four Years

We got four healthy years.

Four years in which Bitey went from starving baby to fat-n-happy adolescent. When we found him you could hold Bitey in the palm of your hand, now he measures almost three feet fully extended. (Should have known from the ears). From 3.6 lbs to 16, which, given his continuing preference to sleep above my head, left me with less and less pillow each year.

But I didn't mind. Because Bitey was one of those cats.

Two years after we found Bitey I left my West Hollywood starter apartment, the kind people who know better don't rent.

A mild digression: The apartment complex I lived in was three houses down from Santa Monica Blvd, and the club kids parked on my street, peed in my driveway and held drunken screaming matches under my streetlight. The bedrooms had tan carpets, tan walls, and tan plastic blinds on the plate glass windows. But it was the first apartment I ever rented in my own name, and I loved it.

But my roomie, Single Blonde Female, finally jumped the sanity cliff, and made our home a war zone. She banned my boyfriend from the apartment. The noise from the construction of new condos across the street was threatening my own mental health. The landlord was closing in on my illegal feline...and the beat goes on.

Lying awake at night, I pictured my perfect sanctuary. It would be a house, a tiny one, with a tiny garden, and maybe a garage. There would be flowers, and quiet, and privacy.

This dream kept me sane through uncertain times. And then, through a friend, I heard of a place for rent. It was way too expensive for one person, but I took a look, just to see. It was a tiny one-bedroom house in Hollywood, with a garden. And a garage. And it was so very quiet. Standing in the garden, staring at the long strands of bouganveilla growing from a thicket that covered the back wall, I knew. This was the place I had dreamed of. I moved in in October of 2003, and ate pasta and peanut butter for a few months, until Boyfriend became Living Together Guy in January of 2004.

The garden, with its five magnificent fruit trees (orange, lime, fig, peach, passion fruit) presented a Bitey dilemma. FeLV cats cannot go outside, but you tell that to the feline love of your life who is staring longingly at grass he can't roll around in. After discussions with several vets, we decided to allow Bitey supervised visits to his own garden.

So two more years passed.

On Saturday, February 18th 2006, I woke up and went out to run errands. When I fed Bitey he was favoring one of his hind legs. When I came back, he unable to use either of his hind legs. He was paralyzed from the lower spine down.

Anyway, that's about all I have the heart for tonight. As of tonight, Bitey is staying with our local vet, because he cannot (TMI ALERT) evacuate on his own. We miss him. Stay tuned. j