Saturday morning started off as most every morning for me has over the past year. I was awakened by fur and whiskers passing by my head. In my usual tone I yelled "Norman, get the hell off of me; I'm trying to sleep." Of course, Norman didn't care. He knew the sun had peaked over the roof of the house and it was time to get up. However, I was lucky this morning as my wife and oldest son were already awake. So, I drifted back to sleep....
I start this entry with a little daily life event because I took it for granted. Never did I look at Norman the cat waking me up as a happy-go-lucky moment in my life. But if I could have that moment one more time, I might think differently. Norman was a stray cat that started hanging around our farm about a year ago. It is not unusual to see a new feline face at my house because lots of cats get dumped by pet owners or vet clinics on our farm. The stipulation for dumping a cat at our house is that it must be spayed or neutered and must be so wild that we can't even get within 10 feet of it. They hang out in the barn and play in the pasture along with the horses and enjoy life. But every once in a while a nice one will slip onto the property and come say hi. This is precisely what happened with Norman.
Most of the time, the friendly cats are whisked right to the vets office, spayed and put up for adoption. After all, we have dogs that don't take kindly to cats. But the day that Norman showed up, he put on a show! He loved being petted and carried around by our oldest son, Liam. And Liam loved Norman. We decided to let Norman hang around for a while. He made a little bed in the garden and would come out and play when anyone was outside. Eventually, he had become a part of the family which meant he got his big chance to come inside and look around. Once inside, he checked out the place...and discovered the dogs. Little did he know there was a big bad boston terrier that was tracking him down to let him know that he didn't belong. Kinda funny since our pit bull Sydney, who used to eat cats for every meal, just lay there and welcomed Norman inside. Canela, the boston guard dog, had her nose extremely bent out of shape. So after Norman straightened her nose for her they learned to co-exist. After a quick trip to the vet for a declaw, Norman was right at home.
Liam always insisted that Norman sleep in his room. "Norman is my cat!," he would proclaim and would not go to bed if Norman was not with him. There were many nights we would find ourselves walking out to the barn or canvasing the yard looking for Norman so Liam would go to bed. After a few months, the novelty of having a cat sleep in his room wore off for Liam. So Norman took up residency in our bedroom. He started off trying to sleep on my head, but he quickly learned that I wasn't going to have that. I mean after all, I hated cats! Over time, he got acquainted to the rules and we became buddies. He would perch himself on the ledge outside the shower and watched me shower every morning. He would follow me to the sink and watch me shave and then we would enjoy a cup of coffee together. There was even times I had to force him out of my car when I would leave for work in the mornings. This cat was cool!
You can imagine my sadness on Saturday May 23 when Norman met his match by way of a four wheeled vehicle in front of our house. I was ironing clothes after a hard days work building a play set and Melissa was taking the boys for a ride on the golf cart around the pasture when it happened. She came into the closet where I was ironing and told me Norman was dead. I couldn't believe it! He had spent the day supervising my building the play set. I walked outside to the end of our long driveway and knelt down next to Norman. I said a little prayer and then I picked him up and walked back to the house. Melissa met me in the garage with a towel to wrap him in. The boys, especially Liam, were shaken and curious about what happened next. They knew what happened and that Norman wasn't coming back. Melissa called her friend who owns a pet cremation service and she and Liam took Norman to the crematorium. Once Norman's ashes are back, we plan to have a little ceremony and bury his ashes on the grounds. I think that a little tree would be a great way to memorialize Norman.
I'm sure most of you have stories of beloved pets...please comment on the story of Norman and share your own favorite pet memory/story. Lets hear it!
When Nathan and I were bantering in the office and the name of this blog (and probably future book) came out, I immediately had my image of mud between my toes...and thought I would share as the first post. The picture to the left is of the tank (Texas slang for pond) just below the house I grew up in on a cattle farm in central Texas. This was the setting of many a childhood memory...a lot of which involved physical mud. 
