Dummy the cat – Key West – 1993, 1994

The cat that had lived around the apartments for apparently a grillion and a half years adopted us immediately. This ancient Siamese cat, emaciated, barely able to walk more than twenty or thirty steps before laying down wherever he was… His cloudy, glaucoma-blue eyes looking up at me… His little body shaking while he meow-ed for my attention. He would sit outside our door, or Mark’s across the way, in the shade, still not protected from the heat, waiting for either of us.

One of my roommates found the cat nothing but a nuisance. But the cat’s age and obvious tender demeanor really touched me. I would feed and pet him while he shook. The cat seemed to visibly deteriorate during the first few months of our stay, cancer, or some other equally terrible affliction his worst enemy. Although he wanted our affection, he never attempted to enter the apartment and was content to just stand and shake by the front door.

On a particularly hot day in early spring, I opened the door to give him some food and in he came. Trotting almost, entering the apartment about 10 steps before stopping. He stood there, next to the ladder to the loft, obviously drained from the exertion. "Dummy, c’mere…c’mere," I said, from two steps away. He shook, but continued no further.

He moved his head slowly around the room as his legs stood rigid and his chest expanded and contracted heavily. Upon closer inspection, he looked worse than usual. I let him stay inside awhile. The air conditioner with the Buick-sized engine roared and ate electricity in compensation for the little cool air it provided. Dummy barely moved during his stay.

In the evening after sunset, the temperature cooled a bit and I attempted to pick him up, but relented because he seemed so fragile. The very act of lifting him could’ve broken him. I sat on the floor and directed him, slowly, to the door. He stepped down the step and stopped; then lay down. I looked outside a half an hour later, and there he was, next to the bowl of water, looking at me.

The next day he was gone and none of us saw him again. Sturdy little fragile cat, his eyes conveyed some understanding he was unable to articulate otherwise. Sweet little thing. I cried when I knew he wasn’t coming back.