Chunkopotimus Maximus

Once upon a time my ex and I adopted two stray kitties. We were told they were littermates, and for some reason decided that meant they were boys, so named them after our favourite wrestling team, Buh-buh and Devon Dudley. Buh-buh was a quiet, timid little grey striped tabby. Devon was an outgoing but slightly awkward solid black tom. One night there was some strange noises, and we discovered, probably much after the two of them did, that Buh-Buh should've been Babette. So, we had a teenage mother on our hands, and a few months later I "midwifed" the three kitten litter she was carrying into the world. First came a little grey tabby, just like mommy! Then came a little black squirmer, just like daddy! Then came...a bright orange ball of fluff that more closely resembled a hamster with the legs of an overgrown jackrabbit.

In our one bedroom apartment, we certainly couldn't keep 5 cats. Sadly, right after having the kittens, Buh-buh displayed alarmingly ferile behavior, attacking both us and her offspring. After multiple lacerations and heroic kitten resues, we carted her off to a no-kill shelter, suggesting she perhaps find an outdoor residence. We quickly found a home for the black kitten, who was a feisty little girl. The grey one took a bit longer, and we named her mouse due to her comically large ears. As I had my sights set on keeping the orange one, we attempted to name him Spike (third member of the Dudley team for you wrestling impaired readers). However, his furry-ness only expanded, to the point where it stuck straight out and he looked as if he had been gently electricuted, so he was nicnamed, then later rechristiened, Chunk.

We finally found a home for his other sister, and he quietly readjusted to life with just Daddy Devon and his two humans. They both had an odd obsession with plastic bags, crawling itno trash recepticals and borrowing in grocery bags (whether empty or not). Chunk was hardly an affectionate cat, preferring to be rather aloof and stare at us from the other side of the couch. When he decided he wanted a quick pet, he would gnaw on the back of his intended victim. He did have a very odd habit of meowing irritatedly if we picked Devon up, like how dare he lower himself to human contact. The only change fixing him brought was that he talked less.

He continued his standoffishness when we moved to Edmonds, and would really only cuddle up to me, and that was rare. We discovered he had an inate fear of squirrels, as they would scamper up to our windows and Chunk would lose his mind trying to get away from them. When I left Rick, we agreed that I would take Chunk and he would take Devon. He made it very clear how much he disliked the giant orange complaint machine. As soon as Chunk and I moved into the new apartment, he seemed to have a drastic change in personality. Suddenly he had to sleep everynight curled next to my chest (I feared if he actually curled up on my chest, I wouldn't be able to breathe). He would follow me from room to room, and would climb onto whatever lap was made available. We discovered the "self cleaning option" on him, basically, if you scratched the back of his neck, he would convulse for a second and then go into what seemed to be a compulsory licking of himself. The more you scratched, the more fervent his licking became. If you scratched his back, the licking would increase in velocity and include heavy breathing, so we called it light wash and heavy load. When Scott moved in, his cats seemed to delight in jumping out and Chunk to scare the daylights out of him. Eros attempted a play fight with him once, and was quickly on the receiving end of what we could only describe as a full body slam. When Chunk walked away, Eros sat there, looking quite dazed!

For the last three years, pretty much everyone who saw Chunk got "loved" by him. He was a glutton for food and affection. There was not a single night that cat wasn't right up in my face getting his purr on. It's genuinely hard to remember that at one point he wasn't this cuddly. His weight steadily grew, and he was definitely owning his name. Sadly, his weight also made him rather clutzy. He had trouble making it onto the bed sometimes, or the back of the couch, and we'd have to stifle our giggles watching him do his frantic scramble to get his heavy hindquarters to catch up with the rest of him. There is nothing more goofy looking that seeing his wide-eyed face pop up, fore-paws desperately clawing at the covers, then disappear with a THUD.

Even more ridiculous was Chunk's eating habits. He would only eat dry food, and would give you a disgusted look should you attempt to give him wet food. The one time I saw him try it he smacked his lips patheticly, like the texture was just freaking him out. He would, however, follow you if you had a bowl of ice cream, or...potatoe chips. Most cats saw tuna from a can as a treat, but to Chunk, it was goldfish crackers. Popcorn was also another favourite of his.

I don't want to go into details of his final days. Needless to say he had either a stroke or a brain tumor, either of which was causing his body to shut down rapidly. It took them a day to figure it out, and by then he lost all control of all function from the waist down. The vet did give me the option to try pregnazone, which could've possibly kept him alive for "up to a month", but his life would've been terrible in that month. I chose to let him go humanely, rather than prolong any misery. I hugged him goodbye, and sat there bawling into his fur for a few minutes. I don't think I've stopped crying, because sitting on the couch I keep thinking he should be next to me. Going to bed I kept reaching for him, expecting his firm headbutt on my shoulder.

I'm guessing people who don't have cats/pets would see this much grief for a furry one as odd. I guess I'm a crazy cat lady. But Chunk was my companion through so much. He was a part of my life. He was a damn cool cat, fat as hell, with the heart and mindset of a cat much more delicate. I don't want to replace him, because he was so unique, it's hard to imagine another animal taking his place. I'll be mourning for a while.

Last night I remembered Bob had loved Chunk (pretty much anyone who met Chunk fell in love with him). He sat on my couch for a while just triggering the self-clean reaction and laughing. That was two weeks before Bob took his life, actually.

I'd like to think he's taking care of Chunk for me now. Feed him goldfish crackers, Bob, and don't forget to scratch his neck.