Tribute to a Lost Pet

Last night, August 9, 1995, Kristin and I came home from work to find that our cat Tybalt had been run over and died yesterday. We don't know who did it, or even what really happened. Our neighbor Scott found him curled up on the side of the road.

I haven't quite come to grips with it yet.

We got Tybalt when he was just a kitten. He was a total scaredy-cat. For almost a week, he wouldn't come out from hiding, because of the terror of our other cat, Sid. It took Sid over a year to get used to having another cat around the house. Kristin got Tybalt so that Sid would have a friend, so he wouldn't be so lonely. I am worried that Sid will take this pretty hard. It is disconcerting to not hear the two of them ZOOMing around the apartment, trying to beat each other up, this early in the morning. The image of Sid pinning Tybalt to the ground, with both of them staring up as I walked past, as if to say "go away! you're interrupting!" is one that I will miss.

Two years ago, Tybalt arrived, I was totally unsure about him. He was really skittish, didn't like attention that much, but demanded it a heck of a lot. As he's getting older, he mellowed out some. He was still skittish, and didn't like surprises, and was still scared of everything. He also always wanted to be around where we were. Didn't matter what we were doing. He didn't usually even want a lap. He just wanted to be nearby. When we came home, he would also be there to say "hi hi!" He always seemed to be glad to see us. Sid only really seems glad to see us when he needs to get fed. The sight of Tybalt perched on the corner of the roof, a perfect gargoyle picture, was always a welcome sight when coming home late at night. Somebody was looking out for us.

Everybody thought that Tybalt was a girl, because he always acted so "dainty", and because he was really fluffy. Light on his feet, and timid. Sid will charge into anything, but Tybalt needs to make sure that it's safe first. Once you've ventured forth, though, he'd tag along. He was a scaredy-cat, but still friendly. Unlike Sid, Tybalt didn't stop playing as he grew up. He still liked to chase whatever needed chasing. A month or two ago, there was a gopher or mole or something digging in the backyard. He and Oscar, the cat next door, went to check it out. Oscar quickly lost interest, but Tybalt just stuck it out and kept staring at the dirt, waiting for it to move again. I don't know what he was waiting for, but every time the ground moved, he tensed up, and waited for the critter to rear its head. I don't know what he would have done if it shown itself. Tybalt also loved to stare at the bird feeder. He'd sit down nearby, crouching as much out of the way as he could, and just stare at the finches and sparrows and jays that all came. You could tell he would love to jump out and grab one of these birds, but he just couldn't figure out how to sneak up on a bird if he tried.

It's the next morning, and I am still crying. I didn't realize how much I had grown attached. I love my cat.

I wish I had more pictures.