I’m not sure if I’ve ever written down the story of Pouncer. I certainly can’t find it online.

Pouncer was “my” first cat. We always had them around growing up, and while I had cats I called “mine” as a child, they were barn cats, not house cats. And they didn’t really give a rats ass about me, as long as they got fed. In that regard, Pouncer (and Dennis) aren’t much different.

I moved to Pullman in August 1996. I had been out of High School for just a few months and was just starting my long journey to a Bachelor’s degree at WSU. I lived in the dorms. The next year, I moved to College Crest, a rather strangely set up apartment complex. I had no pets for each of these years.

It wasn’t until 1998, when my brother came to town that things changed. We had rented an apartment together, even shared a room. It was about as good as you’d expect. And it was then, on a trip home that I mentioned to my first boss that I was considering a cat.

Do I have a deal for you!

I was introduced to Pouncer. Her owner had to move back to Texas in a rush and couldn’t take the cat. Something about a divorce, if I remember. She was already an elderly creature at that point, and not one that liked much change. Perfect for an apartment of college students.

The cat came with vaccinations, a litter box, a healthy supply of Science Diet, a bed, and a picture. I still have the bed, but everything else, including the poor cat is long gone.

I can’t say I was a good owner for her. The following year, I moved into a condo with a very good friend, who was unfortunately allergic to cats. So Pouncer went back to Grays Harbor, where she spent a couple years living with my parents. Eventually, I moved into a place of my own, and the cat returned.

She stayed with me for another four or five years, moving with me into a basement when I lost my job at the College of Pharmacy, and moving with me again when I started full time at Vetmed a few years later. Through it all, she never fully trusted me. She’d sleep next to me on the bed at night, but was always hiding under the bed during the days.

she was pretty worthless

As a companion, she wasn’t much to think about. I fed her in the morning, I cleaned the litter box, and occasionally I’d see a glance of a grey blur as that longhaired creature ran from one hiding spot to another. But we spent a few years together, and that counts for something.

I still remember her last days. Like everything in her life, it couldn’t be easy. Late on a Friday night, she comes out of the bedroom and just lays down in front of the bathroom and cries. You could hear the pain. There was nothing I could do to help her, which was the worst part. I had known the end was coming, she wasn’t holding weight any more and what little grooming she once managed was long abandoned.

My vet had left two days earlier on a mission of mercy in Chile—something she still does on an annual basis. Euthanasia is a very personal thing, I didn’t want to just go to the Teaching Hospital.

Fortunately, I had a good friend with a recommendation. Dr. Kethler has only seen me in her official capacity one time. I can’t say enough about how well she treated me. She was honest, forthright, and could read me. She knew.

And just like that, my life with Pouncer was done. She made the arrangements, and I walked away.

When I got home, I cried. It surprised me. After all, we were never close, that cat and I. But I was still attached to her. I can’t say I miss her, but I’m happy to have had her around for a while.

Dennis is now a middle-aged creature. He still has the exuberance of youth, but he has developed that roundness of an adult cat. He’s just as happy sleeping the day away as he is chasing that rouge insect. Someday his time will come; I only hope I can be as strong when he needs me to be as I was for Pouncer.