Fred and Mary Holmes' Web Site

It has been a sad few months. At the end of June our good friend was diagnosed with inoperable stomach cancer, and just recently our neighbor was killed in a tragic accident. She was only 13. So sometimes with the human grief that envelops us it seems somewhat trite to mourn the passing of a cat.

But we really do miss our beautiful British Shorthair, Chloe, and hope no one will be offended if I spend a few minutes memorializing her. In fact, our neighbor was one of the three girls that took care of our cats when we were away and all three loved Chloe and visited her often.

Back in 1996 it had been a while since our dog Darby had died and Mary was getting a little lonesome for a pet. Our hectic schedule really didn't lend it self to caring for a dog. We were away too much and just couldn't give a dog the care it deserved, so Mary started checking out cats.

Being an old farm boy I thought of cats as a way to keep rats and mice under control and my limited experience with them reminded me that at best they were good mousers.  But as in most discussions with Mary I was out voted 1-0 and soon we had about $150.00 worth of books about cats.

After a month or so of research Mary decided that we could provide the perfect environment for a British Shorthair and she proceeded to sing their praises, telling me how, being large cats, they could handle a sewer rat (we had a lot of those in our condo-not) and how they kept the rat population in London under control. Then she explained how the war nearly wiped out the breed and they were now making a resurgence as a popular breed. Then she showed me research that referred to the cats having soft, plush fur and said that their temperament was conducive to being alone much of the time. They were also clean and playful although they may not be lap cats; they were friendly but not attention seekers.

Finally, like an old rock, I was worn down to a pebble and Mary went on a quest to find the perfect cat. In early 1997 we became the custodians of a beautiful blue and cream, female British Shorthair kitten named Chloe.

She immediately lived up to her billing as she was playful, but only for so long and when she tired of playing she would curl her lip and regally saunter off to find a sunny spot. When she did want something she asked with a soft mew and then waited patiently to be served.

Although gentle, woe to the stray bird that entered our condo through an open door. She was fast, strong and deadly. If we were not quick to rescue the bird it was soon just a few feathers. After these exhibitions of her prowess she would saunter off with a satisfied swagger and a little curl of her lip.   

There was one problem; she just refused to be trained. Being basically a dog man I was used to training animals but to my chagrin she just refused to follow my orders, learned from Mary no doubt, and soon she began avoiding me and stuck to Mary who lavished unconditional love on her. I'll admit, my daughter, Jonna, and Mary had done a pretty good job in making me a more caring and considerate man, but I still occasionally slipped back into my tyrannical ways. I could see that if I didn't do something the cat was going to ignore me completely. So I started on a campaign to "love the darn cat into submission." I started to speak softly, pet her every chance she would let me, feed her cat treats, and play with her when she was in the mood. And I asked for nothing in return. Amazingly it was only a couple of weeks when she started coming to me, looking up with those round golden eyes and waiting patiently for my next service to her majesty.

So, again I learned a lesson I had been exposed to many times. You just cannot spoil a cat or a person with too much love. In fact, I have come to realize after some painful experiences that love is the only thing I have to give and if I do not expect anything in return, I will receive the most important gift I would ever receive: the unconditional love from others. I'm not so shallow that I wasn't aware of the importance of loving with no strings attached, but being an ex-football player it sometimes seemed quicker to bull my way through. When I slip into my old ways it sometimes takes a cat to remind me that love is the only way.

Well, Chloe, Mary and I continued on our happy and contented way until 1999 when Mary, yes Mary, made a serious mistake and brought a little female black cat named Kenny home with the mistaken idea that Chloe would welcome a new playmate with open paws. Major error; there is room for only one Queen and Chloe treated that black cat like a scullery maid's step-daughter. Until Kenny passed away a year ago, Chloe at best tolerated her but never accepted or played with her. Fortunately, Kenny was a pretty resilient little cat and managed to survive Chloe's intense dislike.

In 2005 the two cats (in separate carriers) made the trip to Costa Rica and in no time adjusted to the many sunny spots and followed the sun  around all day as they grew older.

We have a stairs that comes down to a landing which looks out over the living room. Each day at 4:30 or so Chloe would jump off her tower or sunny bed and make her way down the stairs to the landing .There she would sit until I got up and got her cat treats and then she would come over, jump up on the couch and proceed to open the lid on the Pounce can with her teeth and wait for me to feed her several treats. (She learned this on her own.)  She even learned Spanish. After the last treat I would get up and take the can back to its storage drawer and say Espere (wait) and she would sit there until I brought back her bonus treat.

Kenny died last year on Chloe's birthday and ironically on July eighth of this year (Kenny's birthday) Chloe was diagnosed with a large tumor on her kidney. We had it removed but even though the operation was successful, it was just too much for a 14 year old cat to handle and she passed way on the eleventh. The last memory I have of her was her lying quietly with no pain under her grey blanket; looking up at me with those gorgeous gold eyes. I know I'm not supposed to attribute human emotions to animals, but swear that I could see love in her eyes.

Mary doesn't want another pet, but I want a kitten; I just can't wait to train a new cat.