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Cat can make beautiful music to make a pet lover fall in love
By Amy D. Shojai
P'ETiquette
I fell in love with Ricky's mother first. Topanga was a calico Devon Rex - an unusual-looking athletic breed of cat with large ears, enormous eyes and a
distinctive single coat of wavy, chenille-like fur. Thump! The calico beauty landed on my shoulder and began to purr into my ear. I looked at her. Topanga
looked at me. The purring got louder. It was the most beautiful cat music I'd ever heard and I fell head over heels.
“If this cat ever has kittens, let me know,” I told Leslie, the breeder.
“Steve,” Leslie said with a grin, “She's pregnant.”
As a professional pet journalist, I like all animals. At that time, my wife Robin and I shared our Chicago condo with two dogs, Chaser and Lucy. Although
I'd been around hundreds or maybe thousands of cats through my work, I was currently cat-less. I couldn't resist the thought of a one of Topanga's kittens.
From the beginning, our white kitten, Ricky, charmed friend and stranger alike. Lucy and Chaser had always gone places with me and Ricky was no different.
Ricky soon had fans everywhere: the vet's office, the pet store, the bank, the dry cleaner, even the radio station where I worked. His endearing gremlin
look and sparse, baby-fine fur (Rex kittens often look like candidates for Rogaine) never failed to draw a curious, friendly crowd, and, consequently,
the little guy learned from day one that people loved him. I was his biggest fan of all.
My Ricky-admiration bumped up another level, though, when he turned eight or nine months old. Our dog Lucy did animal-assisted therapy and I purchased a
toy piano for her, thinking people would get a kick out of her plinking on the keys. To begin her training, I thought it best to close ourselves in my
study to avoid distractions. Within three or four minutes of Lucy's first clicker-training piano lesson, Ricky managed to open the door. He walked across
the room, performed a perfect sit right next to Lucy, right in front of me. He couldn't have said it any clearer, “I want in on this, too.”
By the end of three training sessions, Ricky hit the piano keys. Within 10 days, Ricky was playing Chopin. Okay. I'm being generous. But he did compose
unique, individual compositions which I refer to as modern jazz. If I doubted it before, Ricky made it clear he was one cool cat.
At first, I was just having a good time. I taught Ricky how to come when called, to jump through or over objects - hula-hoops, prone kids, even strange
dogs doing a “down/stay.” He'd give a high five (well, four) if you asked him.
I'm not sure when I realized we were breaking barriers. You aren't supposed to be able to train cats. Suddenly, Ricky was the teacher, showing by example
that a cat can be so much more than a snoring feline lump on the sofa. Ricky's appearances on local and national television or on the front steps of our
condo building, playing original piano compositions, touched people in ways I never thought possible.
At one outdoor concert, a 10-year-old boy with Down's syndrome walked by. He was enthralled by the piano-playing feline. He stared at Ricky for several
minutes, then spontaneously began to laugh. We're not talking little giggles here. I mean full-blown belly laughter. His mother was stunned. She told me
quietly, “Billy's father passed on two weeks ago. Everyone tried to get him to talk, to react, but he wouldn't.”
Billy, who was still in stitches, began to pet Ricky. Then Billy sat down and snuggled with Ricky, now purring in his lap. I don't know what secrets Billy
shared, but he whispered to Ricky for several minutes. Just before he and his mom departed, Billy looked at Ricky and said, “I love you,” then he kissed
Ricky. Ricky just had this extraordinary ability to reach people.
When Ricky's yearly vet visit rolled around, his veterinarian requested a piano concert for the staff. They were packed in tighter than sardines to hear
Ricky play, oohing and aahing through his entire performance. Afterward, as the doctor began Ricky's physical, I will never forget the look on her face
as she listened to my cat's heart. “Steve, I hear a murmur and it doesn't sound good.”
She referred me to a nearby heart specialist, one of the best in the country and I held my breath until the day of the appointment. I looked at the ultrasound,
listened to what the specialist said, but didn't really hear the words. As a pet journalist, I knew about hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, which made it worse.
I felt numb. Most likely, Ricky had only a limited amount of time left.
Once back at the car, I took Ricky out of the carrier and sat in the parking lot holding him and weeping. I loved my dogs, but Ricky was my best friend.
Working closely with him during training had forged a special bond - a mind/heart connection born from “reading” and understanding each other on an almost
mystical level. Our relationship had become like superglue, tighter than you could imagine.
Ricky didn't know he was sick, thank goodness. Over the next months and years, he made regular trips to the cardiac veterinarian for ultrasound checkups,
and, although the disease progressed, it did so slowly. Ricky learned to leap onto my shoulder each day and “ask” for his heart medicine - the only cat
I ever met who actually liked taking pills.
While visiting the heart specialist, Ricky became fascinated by the dog cookie jar on the reception counter that went, “Woof, woof.” He taught himself to
open the jar and would take out the treats, lining them up on the edge of the counter, and then, one by one, he'd push them off the counter to the waiting
dogs sitting patiently below.
Even ill, he was still Ricky, doing the unexpected. In fact, the first time he pulled the dog-biscuit stunt, the receptionist was so startled that she ran
to the back of the clinic, insisting everyone come up front to see Ricky feed the dogs. Ricky never stopped changing people's perceptions of what cats
could do.
Eventually, the time came when going to the vet lost its appeal. As Ricky's illness intensified, I remained in denial and didn't want to think his time
was as short as it was. One day, he sat next to me in my office, perched on the radiator doing his favorite thing - eating. Then he looked up at me. And
he fell over.
My wife Robin just thought he fell, but I knew. I knew and I grabbed him and ran down the hall. Neighbors say they heard me scream in the elevator as I
went down. Robin called and told the vets to expect us. They tried, but couldn't save him. . . .
It's been over two years, but I still think of Ricky every single day. I can't imagine I'll ever again have a cat who takes as much of my heart as he did.
Though he only lived for a short time, he packed an awful lot of living into his six years. Ricky was the best ambassador ever - for Devon Rex cats and
for cats in general.
[In June 2002, the Winn Feline Foundation (www.winnfelinehealth.org), which supports feline health research, announced the creation of THE RICKY FUND, set
up to accept donations specifically for studies related to feline hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Steve Dale, nationally syndicated pet columnist and radio-show
host, worked with Winn to create this fund in memory of his Devon Rex, Ricky.]
v
This story was excerpted with permission from “Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover's Soul,” for which Amy D. Shojai is a co-author. A book signing/reading from
this book as well as “Chicken Soup for the Dogs Lover's Soul” will be held at 7 p.m. Tuesday at Trinity Lutheran Church in Sherman, Texas. Shojai can be
reached through her website - www.shojai.com. © 2005 Amy D. Shojai
note:Amy is a member of the Cat Writers' Association, and I'd heard about Ricky's heart condition on our list, but hadn't heard about his music. I am so glad to know Ricky even better.
Lauren Merryfield,
editor/publisher,
CATLINES
Be patient It’ s unlikely that your dog and cat will become friends overnight. However, over time you should see their behavior towards each other change for the better provided you do not force it. Some cats take longer to adjust than others. Your cat will probably develop a fairly intense fascination with your dog, always wanting to know where he is and what he is doing. This is partly due to fear and wanting to make sure the dog isn’ t coming near her and partly due to curiosity. Soon their...
Posted by: Complete Guide to Cat Care and Cat Training | March 17, 2008 at 02:49 PM