I'd like to tell a story. It’s about two of my cats, Blackie and Rusty. Two very special pals of mine who couldn't get along with each other, but who have somehow come together in a special way. We took Blackie into our home not quite three years ago, along with Rusty. They were both stray Toms who hung around the yard, who we fed, along with everyone else. By November, we had taken everyone into our home with the exception of Rusty and Blackie. We thought we already had our hands full. It broke our hearts to think of these last two guys spending another winter outside, so I was actually going to build them a heated shelter, then decided on buying a built doghouse, and converting it. Before I did so, we decided one day, what are two more mouths to feed? So we gave them a home too.

Blackie and Rusty became the two most lovable cats in the house. It's like they knew they were given a big break, and were thankful for it. Rusty is still very lovable. Blackie was lovable until he passed on to the Rainbow Bridge in my arms September 20, 2002.

It wasn't until we brought them both into the house three years ago however, that we noticed that they really didn't get along with each other. They couldn't pass in the hall or door without a fight starting. Hissing, snapping, fur flying. It wasn't pretty. For whatever reason, they hated each other. Right up until the end... almost..

Very early Friday morning, in the hours of darkness, while I was sitting up all night to be around for Blackie, as his final Vet visit was later that day. Blackie had been diagnosed with cancer two weeks earlier and went downhill very, very quickly. I hated myself, but I knew I had to take his pain away. Blackie was restless this last night. He kept moving from my lap, to the open window, to the sofa, and back. But at one point, just before dawn, he went onto the sofa, where Rusty was sleeping. He walked to Rusty, and I thought a fight was going to start. For some reason I paused, not saying anything. I watched as Blackie moved to Rusty, and gently rubbed noses with him. Rusty woke up, and Blackie simply sat back and looked Rusty in the eyes for a few seconds, no fighting, no hissing, no problem. Blackie then jumped back up into the window and went to sleep.

Rusty lay there awake for a while looking like he didn't know what to make of it. I didn't either. Then Rusty and I fell asleep. Later that day, my Blackie was gone. For a few weeks, Rusty moped around, sleeping an awful lot, not eating much, and seemingly looking for someone. Probably Blackie.

I can only think that in those hours of darkness, Blackie knew. And Blackie decided to make peace with Rusty. And now Rusty misses his old adversary. And strangely, Rusty has adopted habits exactly like Blackie had. The way he wants me to hold him. They way he buries his head into my arms as if hiding. The way he'll come to bed with me, knead the blankets, then curl up and go to sleep. All the things that Blackie used to do, which Rusty never did. And now I'm crying again. But I had to write this down, and I wanted to share this. I truly feel that Blackie spoke to Rusty in those last few hours, and asked him to take good care of me. Cats are truly beautiful and mysterious creatures. I thank God daily for giving them to all of us.

Copyright © Rick Daly
November 23, 2002