We got him as a rescue some 17 years ago. A mixed breed striped cat, selected for his distinctive facial markings, white feet and, insofar as we could tell, a strong character — although with cats such declarations can be tricky.
My daughter named him Tinky which is a strange name for a male cat and one that might have caused some gender identity problems were he able to grasp that we humans assign names to cats and other objects in our world. I called him The Tinkster or simply Mr Kitty which may or may not have been an improvement.
Tinky joined us to be a companion for the roly poly Kody, a puppy so named because of his tiny bear-like appearance. We anticipated years of them joyfully romping together in the back yard, a bond between species. As Kody grew larger and larger this romping devolved into chasing and other forms of predator-prey behavior where Tinky would barely escape with his nine lives through the slats of the perimeter fence, leaving an oft frustrated but ever-eager Kody glaring at him from the other side.
Yet, a truce of sorts formed over the years whereby the Tinkster would stand his ground when faced with the aggressive posturing from the much larger dog. A carefully timed whack across the snout would send Kody stumbling away from this suddenly fearsome adversary.
It was clear early on that The Tinkster would be a mostly outdoor cat and that he needed this freedom. Anything that contained walls was to him simply a cage, included our house. If brought inside he would spend the next 7000 years seeking a way out, yowling to be set free. I never saw Tinky catch or kill small animals or birds in the woods. I am sure this must have occurred but there was never any obvious signs, not one in 17 years. I know he had some fights with other cats because both ears were torn with almost identical cuts, battle scars for the mythology of Tinky lore.
After Kody died Tinky was left alone. It took a little while but he soon realized that he had the run of the deck, the yard, and all areas within the fence and beyond. His realm at last. The closest he would come to the inside was the sun room equipped with a pet door, and only then because food and water were regularly provided by his large, but slow moving, servants. Over the last few years a family of raccoons also discovered the pet door and the food within, leading to some amusing confrontations between wild animals and a wild animal wannabee. Tinky almost never attacked them as they came for his food, nor did he run away, perhaps accepting a strange hierarchy of domestication.
A year or so ago Tinky began to slow down and lose weight. He was diagnosed with stage 1 kidney disease and put on a special diet to slow its inevitable progress. His journeys into the woods became shorter and shorter, his steps increasingly measured. This last week it became clear that there would be no magical cure and that Father Time had come knocking.
My daughter and I stayed with him in a quiet room at the animal clinic, and we were there as he left our world. Tinky was an outdoor cat and we thought it fitting that his final resting place would be out there where he lived his life. We dug a deep hole in the hard earth under the tall pines, cutting away the roots and moving loose soil with our bare hands.
Tinky lived his life by his own rules, as cats often do. Our memories, and these words, will keep him with us long after his passing. I like to think of him with Kody still, running and chasing, out there in the deep woods. No more cages for you Mr Kitty.
RIP Tinky.
whoisfenton 