When I was a little girl, one of my favorite children’s stories was about the three little kittens who lost their mittens. I have always loved cats. My dolls sat languishing in their doll beds while my stuffed animals got all the attention.
Before Instagram, I had to make my own photo layouts of cats when I was about 10. Pictured are Pretty and Perky, my grandpa’s cousin’s cats, and Morton, the beloved black cat who lived next door to me growing up.
We would sometimes visit my grandpa’s cousin in southern Ohio, a widow. I was told she didn’t like children and so I had to be on my best behavior. I spilled milk on her before a wedding and I realized then why she didn’t like children. She had two cats: a ginger tabby named Perky and a white fluffy cat named Pretty. I loved them. I knew deep down that one day I would be a cat lady.
When I realized I would die soon, I worried. What was I going to do about my three cats? My ex had initially said he would take them, but I knew that he would move to the U.K. to be with the Pilates instructor he left me for. And I knew that she already had pets, a dog and some cats, because she mentioned them in the flirty texts she sent to him. (Maybe he replaced me with a woman better suited to him and his extravagant tastes, but I take great satisfaction that his British cats will never be as great as goofy Ziggy Stardust, cool Lux Interior, and sweet Lulu.)
I started this post last year when I was dying, then I was too busy living to finish it. The question of pets comes up in support groups and among the terminally ill. What do we do with the animals we adopted when we expected to outlive them?
Thankfully, someone has agreed to take in my three cats all together. It’s such a relief. Right now, the cats also have a catgodmother who comes and cares for them during my hospitalizations.
My cats have a lot of personality. Everyone who visits has a favorite. Ziggy, a friendly good-looking tabby, needs lots of attention, and turns on the charm for all visitors and is a popular choice. Lux, a black cat with a hearty appetite and a goofy personality, has his own distinct fan club. Lulu, a small somewhat shy tabby, cultivates fiercely dedicated devotees with her sweet and gentle disposition.
Ziggy Stardust
A friend took a photo of Ziggy at his birthday party.
Ziggy is the cat who greets people at the door. He needs to charm everyone, whether you are sleeping on the daybed for a few days or over to fix the printer or the pipes. He is a ham. He poses for pictures. He’s a handsome cat, with big velvet painting eyes and a pink nose, and he knows he’s attractive. Some people say he’s a dandy.
We have a special bond because his sister, Charlotte Sometimes, was very sick with FIP as a kitten before she died. He would try to play with her but she was too weak and my ex would often lock Ziggy in the bathroom when he would try to play too rough with Charlotte or when Ziggy would mess with his record collection for attention. So sometimes I would spend time in the bathroom with him, during his exhile. Ziggy’s also really smart, so he figured out how to open the bathroom door, so if he got bored enough, he would let himself out.
Ziggy was sick at the animal hospital and I went to visit him. A photographer friend took this Madonna and child photo.
After his sister died, he didn’t have anyone to play with and so he would jump out from behind things and puff himself up like a Halloween cat to try to get me to chase him. I would chase him and catch him and then hold him and he would purr. We still play that game when he wants attention. Confused guests asks why he’s puffed himself up, but he’s just trying to play the little game we played. You have to try to pretend you’re going to get him and then hold him. He’s been doing it more and more lately, adding a little jig. His catgodmother calls it his “heed me” dance.
He loves attention so much that he’ll put up with me dressing him up and taking pictures sometimes. He’ll endure an otter hat or being dressed as a cow for attention. He’ll wear his bow tie for special occasions.
Ziggy is uncannily smart. When we were trying to keep him from my ex’s record collection, we got a scat mat, one of those mats that sends a slight shock, and put it in front of the records. In the middle of the night, he found the connector piece didn’t shock and was dragging it to the middle of the room with his mouth, to a place where we would step on it instead. Our eyes met as he moved the scat mat into my path. I didn’t care about the records and admitted defeat, proud that I have such a smart cat. The other day, he tried to figure out the cabinet door so he could get one of his favorite toys.
One day, I caught him on the cat cam trying to dismantle it before he knocked over a lamp. (This makes him smarter than my ex, who left the cat cam on when he called his brother to tell him about the London woman and talk about how he was tired of dealing with cancer.)
He is a sensitive soul and has to be on anti-anxiety medication. Because of his anxiety, he is prone to urinary tract infections and has to have a special diet. Of all the cats, I worry about Ziggy the most, because he lost his sister and he’s going to lose me too. Ziggy is my whole heart. He loves me too, I think. I bought a card with nine cat faces on the front for my boyfriend that said, “I would spend all nine lives with you.” Ziggy chewed the corner of the card. He likes to eat plastic, but it’s as if he was sending a message: I will always be his.
Ziggy’s major flaw is that he eats Apple chargers. Not all chargers, mind you, but Apple brand in particular. I think he has stock in Apple. I have a special case for my charger so I can wrap it up when not using it. He also loves to eat tape and adhesives.
He often sleeps on my neck, like a scarf, purring, his pink nose close to my cheek. I have a painting in my childhood bedroom that looks just like Ziggy. I feel like we were destined for each other.
Lux Interior
Lux was originally a set of ears mostly.
For my 22nd birthday, my boyfriend at the time surprised me by taking me to Cat Welfare in Columbus on our lunch break to pick out a cat. I was still a little bit goth, and after looking at a litter of little black kittens, I picked out a big spooky black cat that my boyfriend thought was ugly. It ran away from me and hid. He had to get back to work, but I needed a cat that very day, and so I took home instead the cat who stuck by my side when he meowed to be let out of his cage: A goofy white cat with tabby spots and tabby tail. One of my friends called him a “Frankenkitty, like someone took a bunch of different cats and sewed them together.” He did look like he was the last cat made at the factory that day and they used the last scraps of fur. I never regretted adopting sweet, goofy, clumsy Maceo.
Now Lux is mainly eyes.
I finally got my black cat a few years ago, at Urban Outfitters. They were picking up the tab for Best Friends animal adoptions, and we were on a search for companions for Ziggy. They hadn’t even put out Lux and his sister, Lulu, yet. They were barely three months old, and when we took one out to look, the other would mewl for its sibling. Lux was mostly a set of ears on skinny kitten legs. He had a tiny white spot on his chest. Both of them have their tails on backwards, so they curl forward. Another cat factory mishap; someone new on the job put a bunch of tails on backwards.
Lulu loves Lux. Ziggy loves Lux. Lux loves everyone. He’s very relaxed, except for when he’s racing around or chasing a spring. He likes to tear apart boxes. He looks at the window and stares at birds and makes clicking noises at them. I can’t tell if he’s impersonating the cats or if he’s telling them that he’s going to eat them.
Lux sincerely believes that no one can see him while he hides behind this curtain.
When he was a kitten, Lux would insert his entire face into your open mouth if he could. Now he is more polite and just inserts his snout. Food is his favorite thing.
Master of disguise. Stealth.
Sometimes I think he would be OK to live on the streets, but one of his favorite activities is to hide behind the sheer curtains. He can see out but he doesn’t think anyone can see in, nor does he realize his feet and tail are clearly visible below the curtain. He jumps out to surprise you and I have to act surprised. I think he’s convinced his sister, Lulu, that you are invisible behind the curtain. One of my friends who is a Lux fan uses a hashtag when he does things like this: #classicLux.
Now that I finally have a black cat, he’s the least goth cat you can imagine. He’s weird, but he’s definitely not spooky. That’s OK. I was also too goofy to be a real goth anyway. He’s the perfect black cat for me.
Lulu
Lulu is little camera-shy and a bit shy in person as well. Ever-cautious, she hides for a little before emerging, unlike the boys begging visitors for attention the minute they arrive. She establishes deep connections. “I love sweet and gentle little Lulu the best,” declared one of my best friends.
She’s a sweet and gentle soul.
Lulu has special meows and language for her favorites, eating on a shelf for her cat godmother. She follows my boyfriend around and meows at him for kibble.
Like my old cat Maceo, she answers to her name, to “Lulu” or “Lulululululu.” I didn’t know what to name her and when my ex suggested Lulu, I had my doubts. But I called her name and she immediately answered, so she picked her name.
She prefers kibble to wet food. Every day she buries her wet food by pawing the hardwood floor around her dish. Every day, the other cats find it.
Sometimes she watches TV.
Even though she’s so shy and timid at times, it seems like she craves adventure and travel. She often tries to sneak into her catgodmother’s bag and see the world.
Lulu suns her belly. Her front paw pads are all black except for one pink toe. Like her brother, Lux, she has a white spot on her chest, as well as an orange patch. She has a black ring around her neck that makes it look as if she’s wearing a necklace.
The person who is going to take care of them when I’m gone came to visit a few weekends ago. It was bittersweet. I know she’ll take good care of them. I told the cats to be good and impress our special guest. Ziggy was sweet and charming. Lux was soft and friendly. Lulu cuddled and even brought out a toy mouse to show off what a fierce huntress she could be. I’m so proud of my little cat family. I will have to say goodbye to them soon, and it will be one of the hardest things. Until then, I treasure my time with three of the very best cats.
