Watson Meyer, Requiscat in Pace
Eli and I wrote the following this morning in remembrance of the first pet we adopted together. I hope you like it.
Watson Meyer
7.20.07 -- 12.23.08
Watson Meyer, aka Watson-doo, aka Watsie doodle, aka Watsie, was an extraordinary cat. We found him at the Dedham Animal Rescue League shelter and were immediately taken with his spirit and energy as he played with Shari's hair. Having not settled on a kitten name, we decided his given name, Watson, was an excellent one. Named for the scientist who co-discovered that the structure of DNA is a double helix, Watson came home with us and showed his curious personality right away as he looked out the window in the car and tried to get out of the carrier to explore. He never wanted to be in one place and on his first day in our house, he began climbing the drying rack as if it were a jungle gym and tearing up a small paper bag, habits he would continue throughout his life. We discovered early on that he had been weaned too early. Though the occurrences of this behavior were fewer as he got older, he would suck at any fur-like material he came across if the mood struck him. Suckling at blankets, our shirts, or my stuffed monkey, Sam, Watson would knead and purr until he was satisfied. It was very sweet, albeit sometimes annoying because it made your shirt very wet.
Watson met Tiger Meyer and was instantly intrigued by this other cat. Being 11 and not wanting to deal with a kitten, she warned him off with growls and hisses. But over time they developed a very sweet relationship. Although he frequently jumped on her and tried to pin her down, she never really retaliated, limiting her reaction to a very annoyed warning hiss. In colder months, they would take naps together on the bed for warmth and if one were napping, the other would clean his/her friend's face. We feel sure they were friends, a relationship we had hoped for when we first brought him home.
He loved to climb in things. Beginning from his kittenhood, when he went inside our very small wicker baskets (and tried to eat his way out), and ending at the very end of his life, when he went inside every paper bag and cardboard box that he could fit in. We left bags on the kitchen floor so he could sleep on them and chew them. He loved when we brought groceries home because he looked into every single bag and eventually stole one. For fun, we put a plastic bag around his neck to give him a Superman cape. When he tried to take it off, we decided we were sufficiently amused and helped him out.
Watson spent more time in the kitchen than any other cat. He hugged the water dish and, as a younger kitty, he would place various possessions in the food and water dishes, from bottle caps to catnip mice to drawstring pants ties that he stole from the floor. He would presumably carry these items in his little teeth to the bowl for safekeeping. The kitchen was also the site of Eli's favorite Watson game, where he placed his hands at the cat's neck and belly and spun him around on the ground, resulting only in confusion, not anger or annoyance.
Like all cats, Watson loved to sleep. He was so happy when he discovered napping in the sun. In the summer, he would put his big old self at the screen door, roll over onto his back, and let the sun hit his belly. He continued to use the drying rack as a hammock, leaving a big dent in the bottom netting. In his last days, he loved sleeping across an entire step, forcing us to step over him and often attacking Eli's foot as he did so. It was kind of rude, but also endearing. He used to follow us everywhere, including to the bathroom at night, to make sure we were coming back to bed. But as he got older, he got more secure. He would come to bed at 3:00 or so, purr loudly, stare at me until I woke up to pet him, then come closer to snuggle.
He learned about the alarm clock because it meant food was coming. When the clock beeped on weekday mornings, he would jump onto the bed if he weren't already there. He acted as if he were just being sweet, but then he went straight to the food dish. Often, he and Tiger rubbed up against each other until the food hit the bowl. Watson LOVED to eat. He once ate a piece of asparagus and he liked Bisquick pancakes. But most of all he loved kitty wet food. He would hear the food shaking in the packet and come running from anywhere in the house. We would have to drag him away from the food bowl to make sure it got to the cats it was meant for, aka not Fatsby. Occasionally, he joined us at the kitchen table, sitting at a chair and looking at the food. If not seated, he would rub up against the table legs and our chair legs and our legs until we offered him some chicken or fish. He was a cheese connoisseur, preferring to eat Roquefort that cost $20 a pound and eschewing Kraft American slices. He also enjoyed eating grass outside in the backyard; he ate the wrong kind once and Eli had to pull it out of his throat.
Watson was a great conversationalist. If you spoke to him, he looked at you and would sometimes talk back. For nearly a year, he could not meow. But he made adorable chirping sounds that let us know he loved us -- and loved his food. He also called out to birds with a dolphin-like noise. However, he was a terrible hunter. We bought him a feeder fish and he just batted it around inside the Tupperware. (To be fair, Catsby didn't know how to fish either.) He would have been totally lost in the wild because he was chubby and slow. He excelled at hunting bugs; he once pulled a moth right out of the air and caught it in his paws. He adored going outside and once he learned he was allowed, he would go to the back door and meow and cry. A couple of times, he tried to open it himself. He did not like snow, which he only faced twice, just before he died, but he did love autumn and watching the leaves blow everywhere. That was great fun outside for him as he tried to get his paws on some of the leaves.
Though he was scared of new people and strangers later in his life, he knew our footsteps and greeted us happily each time we returned home, running downstairs to stretch and scratch his claws on the carpet. Moreover, he was a great friend to cats. He made friends through the gap in the basement with two kittens next door. He learned to put his paw through a hole to find something on the other side, a technique he applied to our bathroom when we were showering or otherwise in there for a long time with the door closed. His best friend was Catsby, of whom he was somewhat cautious but whom he clearly admired for his adventurous spirit. Catsby came to our house in June 2008 and within a couple of months, the boy cats were friends. The normally cagey Watson would venture far beyond our back patio when he was following Catsby to play. Their favorite game was indoors, though, and involved the kitty tent. The usual method entailed Catsby entering the kitty tent, looking at Watson knowingly, and Watson coming to the tent to poke at Catsby through the mesh in the sides and back. It was clearly a game; they both would run upstairs and go to their positions without hesitation. Though the boys rarely slept together, we know they were good friends who missed each other when Catsby was out of the house. We are sad to know that Catsby will now be lonely without his special friend.
Watson had other adorable behaviors, like running to the printer on the floor of the computer room whenever it was active and attacking the paper. He helped clean the litter boxes by going to the basement to provide moral support, to roll around on the dirty floor, and to sometimes poop as soon as a box was clean. He also helped with the laundry, ensuring that any clothes that had a string were difficult to put away. He followed Shari around frequently and greatly enjoyed snuggle time with Eli.
At the end of his life, he was obviously in some discomfort and pain. Yet he continued to play and to be friendly, seeking attention and comfort. He was a real trooper, chasing laser pointers and running around the house until the very end, a testament to his indomitable spirit. We will never forget his lively eyes, his exploratory nature, his warm little body, and his constant love and affection. He was one of a kind, never to be replaced, and we are so sad to know we will never get to pet him, hug him, talk to him, play with him, or tell him we love him again. It is our sincere hope that he suffered little, and our burden to know we may be wrong. We hope he knows he touched our lives and that he forgives us for leaving him when he was hurting far worse than we knew.
Watson Meyer
7.20.07 -- 12.23.08
Watson Meyer, aka Watson-doo, aka Watsie doodle, aka Watsie, was an extraordinary cat. We found him at the Dedham Animal Rescue League shelter and were immediately taken with his spirit and energy as he played with Shari's hair. Having not settled on a kitten name, we decided his given name, Watson, was an excellent one. Named for the scientist who co-discovered that the structure of DNA is a double helix, Watson came home with us and showed his curious personality right away as he looked out the window in the car and tried to get out of the carrier to explore. He never wanted to be in one place and on his first day in our house, he began climbing the drying rack as if it were a jungle gym and tearing up a small paper bag, habits he would continue throughout his life. We discovered early on that he had been weaned too early. Though the occurrences of this behavior were fewer as he got older, he would suck at any fur-like material he came across if the mood struck him. Suckling at blankets, our shirts, or my stuffed monkey, Sam, Watson would knead and purr until he was satisfied. It was very sweet, albeit sometimes annoying because it made your shirt very wet.
Watson met Tiger Meyer and was instantly intrigued by this other cat. Being 11 and not wanting to deal with a kitten, she warned him off with growls and hisses. But over time they developed a very sweet relationship. Although he frequently jumped on her and tried to pin her down, she never really retaliated, limiting her reaction to a very annoyed warning hiss. In colder months, they would take naps together on the bed for warmth and if one were napping, the other would clean his/her friend's face. We feel sure they were friends, a relationship we had hoped for when we first brought him home.
He loved to climb in things. Beginning from his kittenhood, when he went inside our very small wicker baskets (and tried to eat his way out), and ending at the very end of his life, when he went inside every paper bag and cardboard box that he could fit in. We left bags on the kitchen floor so he could sleep on them and chew them. He loved when we brought groceries home because he looked into every single bag and eventually stole one. For fun, we put a plastic bag around his neck to give him a Superman cape. When he tried to take it off, we decided we were sufficiently amused and helped him out.
Watson spent more time in the kitchen than any other cat. He hugged the water dish and, as a younger kitty, he would place various possessions in the food and water dishes, from bottle caps to catnip mice to drawstring pants ties that he stole from the floor. He would presumably carry these items in his little teeth to the bowl for safekeeping. The kitchen was also the site of Eli's favorite Watson game, where he placed his hands at the cat's neck and belly and spun him around on the ground, resulting only in confusion, not anger or annoyance.
Like all cats, Watson loved to sleep. He was so happy when he discovered napping in the sun. In the summer, he would put his big old self at the screen door, roll over onto his back, and let the sun hit his belly. He continued to use the drying rack as a hammock, leaving a big dent in the bottom netting. In his last days, he loved sleeping across an entire step, forcing us to step over him and often attacking Eli's foot as he did so. It was kind of rude, but also endearing. He used to follow us everywhere, including to the bathroom at night, to make sure we were coming back to bed. But as he got older, he got more secure. He would come to bed at 3:00 or so, purr loudly, stare at me until I woke up to pet him, then come closer to snuggle.
He learned about the alarm clock because it meant food was coming. When the clock beeped on weekday mornings, he would jump onto the bed if he weren't already there. He acted as if he were just being sweet, but then he went straight to the food dish. Often, he and Tiger rubbed up against each other until the food hit the bowl. Watson LOVED to eat. He once ate a piece of asparagus and he liked Bisquick pancakes. But most of all he loved kitty wet food. He would hear the food shaking in the packet and come running from anywhere in the house. We would have to drag him away from the food bowl to make sure it got to the cats it was meant for, aka not Fatsby. Occasionally, he joined us at the kitchen table, sitting at a chair and looking at the food. If not seated, he would rub up against the table legs and our chair legs and our legs until we offered him some chicken or fish. He was a cheese connoisseur, preferring to eat Roquefort that cost $20 a pound and eschewing Kraft American slices. He also enjoyed eating grass outside in the backyard; he ate the wrong kind once and Eli had to pull it out of his throat.
Watson was a great conversationalist. If you spoke to him, he looked at you and would sometimes talk back. For nearly a year, he could not meow. But he made adorable chirping sounds that let us know he loved us -- and loved his food. He also called out to birds with a dolphin-like noise. However, he was a terrible hunter. We bought him a feeder fish and he just batted it around inside the Tupperware. (To be fair, Catsby didn't know how to fish either.) He would have been totally lost in the wild because he was chubby and slow. He excelled at hunting bugs; he once pulled a moth right out of the air and caught it in his paws. He adored going outside and once he learned he was allowed, he would go to the back door and meow and cry. A couple of times, he tried to open it himself. He did not like snow, which he only faced twice, just before he died, but he did love autumn and watching the leaves blow everywhere. That was great fun outside for him as he tried to get his paws on some of the leaves.
Though he was scared of new people and strangers later in his life, he knew our footsteps and greeted us happily each time we returned home, running downstairs to stretch and scratch his claws on the carpet. Moreover, he was a great friend to cats. He made friends through the gap in the basement with two kittens next door. He learned to put his paw through a hole to find something on the other side, a technique he applied to our bathroom when we were showering or otherwise in there for a long time with the door closed. His best friend was Catsby, of whom he was somewhat cautious but whom he clearly admired for his adventurous spirit. Catsby came to our house in June 2008 and within a couple of months, the boy cats were friends. The normally cagey Watson would venture far beyond our back patio when he was following Catsby to play. Their favorite game was indoors, though, and involved the kitty tent. The usual method entailed Catsby entering the kitty tent, looking at Watson knowingly, and Watson coming to the tent to poke at Catsby through the mesh in the sides and back. It was clearly a game; they both would run upstairs and go to their positions without hesitation. Though the boys rarely slept together, we know they were good friends who missed each other when Catsby was out of the house. We are sad to know that Catsby will now be lonely without his special friend.
Watson had other adorable behaviors, like running to the printer on the floor of the computer room whenever it was active and attacking the paper. He helped clean the litter boxes by going to the basement to provide moral support, to roll around on the dirty floor, and to sometimes poop as soon as a box was clean. He also helped with the laundry, ensuring that any clothes that had a string were difficult to put away. He followed Shari around frequently and greatly enjoyed snuggle time with Eli.
At the end of his life, he was obviously in some discomfort and pain. Yet he continued to play and to be friendly, seeking attention and comfort. He was a real trooper, chasing laser pointers and running around the house until the very end, a testament to his indomitable spirit. We will never forget his lively eyes, his exploratory nature, his warm little body, and his constant love and affection. He was one of a kind, never to be replaced, and we are so sad to know we will never get to pet him, hug him, talk to him, play with him, or tell him we love him again. It is our sincere hope that he suffered little, and our burden to know we may be wrong. We hope he knows he touched our lives and that he forgives us for leaving him when he was hurting far worse than we knew.