A Tribute to Tinker
Tinker entered our lives sometime in June of 1965. We had felt cat-challenged for quite awhile after the loss of the two elderly cats who had helped "raise" my husband. We went to the local animal shelter where we selected two "male" kittens, Tiger, a yellow-striped male and Figuero, a beautiful Torti. We signed a paper agreeing to get them altered when the time was right. Time, as is its habit, flew, and one day I told Asa, "Tiger must be really confused. He was trying to mate Figuero today. Doesn't he know that he's a guy cat?" Well, time flew by some more, and it became evident that Figuero(a) was not only a female, but a very pregnant one. We decided, as was common back then (remember, this was the 60s) to let her have this litter and then to have her spayed.
We were awakened in the early morning hours by plaintive mewling sounds next to our bed. Figuero was giving birth. We hastily found a box and some towels and awakened our two children, who were 5 and 7 at that time, thinking that witnessing this miracle of birth would prepare the way for the inevitable discussion of the birds and bees. (That line of thinking is considered stupid and irresponsible nowadays by most advocates, your Guide included.)
By the time we were ready to take the kids to babysitter and school, and leave for work, Figuero had produced five beautiful kittens, of various shades of gray tabby and calico. We left food, water and a litterbox in her nursery and closed the bedroom door. Asa decided to go home at lunch time to check on the welfare of our little extended family. Lo and behold, there were now six babies. A little yellow tiger-striped kitten had joined his siblings, the spitting image of Tiger.
When the kittens were of an appropriate age, we went about finding homes for them. Soon, all were gone but a grey one and the yellow tiger. A teenage boy and girl came to get a kitten for their mother and chose the yellow one. As soon as I handed him to the girl he sprung from her arms and ran lickety-split into our bedroom and under our bed. No amount of cajoling could retrieve him. The teenagers took the grey kitten with them. After awhile, we decided that the yellow one was so homely no one else would want him, so we kept him and named him Tinker.
Tinker thrived and grew up to be our "Top Cat" for 17 years. Our youngest son, born in November of the same year as Tinker, was raised by a cat, as was his father before him. Tinker was my Golden Boy and enriched my life beyond measure, with his non-stop devotion. Wherever I was in the house, when I settled in a chair for a moment, he was right there next to me, burrowing between me and the chair. When I read the paper at the kitchen table, he was sitting there, sharing it. I learned to use him as an anchor on one side of the paper and scratch his ears while reading, then hoist him to the other side to continue. Even at the age of 17, he sometimes turned kittenish, chasing leaves and shadows as they skittered across the gravel path in our garden.
But his time came too soon, and when it was inevitable, it befell to me to deliver him to the vet for his final trip, which is the saddest and final responsibility of a cat owner. I held him to my heart one last time and kissed him as he purred and rumbled his last goodbye and quietly went "to sleep". That was 15 years ago, and I still miss him as if he left yesterday.
To Tinker - Sunshine Boy
You were always there, it seems,
And now you decorate my dreams,
With topaz eyes and fur aglow,
You always were a one-cat show.
I've seen friends come and go, it's true,
None ever gave more love than you.
Then, on a golden day in June,
You left my side, too soon--too soon.
When in my arms at last you slept,
I said 'goodbye' and then I wept.
You brought me many years of joy,
I miss you so, my Sunshine Boy.
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