Sara Marberry
Over the years, I’ve had to put down many pets. But none that I loved more than Randy. He was an ordinary tabby cat with beautiful green eyes and a big personality that delighted and amused me every day. I miss him dearly.
People who think cats are aloof have never met a cat like Randy. He was curious, talkative, friendly, needy, affectionate, persistent, and adventurous. When visitors would come to the house, he was the first to greet them. He’d snuggle with me while I was watching TV or playing online bridge, purring like a train engine while I rubbed his tummy.
I’d often return to the house from being away to find Randy watching out the back door. He could see the car lights in the garage and knew I was home.
Although he was an indoor cat, Randy longed to go outdoors. That’s why he loved the little screened in porch just off the living room. During the summer, I’d regularly find him lounging on a porch chair on his back, legs splayed, head pressed up against a cushion, drunk with relaxation. He’d repeatedly sneak out the front door when I went to get the mail or paper, scampering over to the side of the house and cowering while I scolded and scooped him up.
Randy’s best trick was climbing up and down the ladder to the loft in my son’s bedroom, where he liked to sleep. He’d scramble up the ladder like a firefighter using both his front paws. To get down, he’d position himself sideways on the top rung, loop one paw around it, step down to the next rung, looping a paw each time until he was almost at the bottom of the ladder, and then jump down. I could get him to do it on command just by climbing up and down the ladder myself.
In many ways, Randy was just like a person. And there was something about his face, eyes, body type, and personality that reminded me of certain people (Comedian Patton Oswalt, Character Nathan Shelley on “Ted Lasso,” and Wisconsin Kicker Rafael Gaglianone to name a few).
When the vet found a mass in Randy’s stomach and told me he only had a few weeks to live, I was devastated. He’d been losing weight and acting different. It happened so quickly. Putting him down was one of the hardest, saddest decisions I’d ever made. I didn’t want to let him go, but it was the humane thing to do.
But in retrospect, Randy lived life to the fullest as only a cat like him can. Up until the end, he was snuggling with me, purring like a locomotive, and sitting out on the balcony of the apartment I’d moved into after selling my house. He was content. I spread his ashes under the giant hostas next to my patio in my new place so he’ll still be near me. Rest in peace, my little Ran-Ran.