A Tribute to Hobo the Cat

by Cathy C
(Buffalo, NY)

Several days ago, my husband Dave and I suddenly lost our beloved pale tortoiseshell cat Hobo to a blood clot. She came to us as an adult stray 10 years ago, so we weren’t sure how old she was, but we figured that she was at least 13, possibly older.

Hobo was a trusting, mellow kitty – but she had enough sassy attitude to make things fun. We like to say that she adopted us. When we bought our house, she started coming around and napping on the chairs on our back deck…and when we left on our honeymoon a few months later, she jumped in the trunk of the car like she wanted to come with us (we had to say no to that, though). She became our housecat later that year, after we determined that she didn’t belong to anyone else. At her first checkup, the vet told us that it sounded like her lungs were a little “rough” –e.g. that she had spent several hard winters outside… but that eventually got better with time and soft living.

Hobo was big (17 pounds!), and loved food, attention, newspapers, cardboard boxes, and being where the action was. Dave and I are both musicians, and she was always around to socialize with visitors and bandmates (although she stayed away from the noise of the drum kit!)

We had a ball with our Hobo cat. We made up silly songs and jingles about her, pretended that we knew what she was thinking (providing dialogue to match) and enjoyed her personality every day. We used to joke that she thought of us as “The Food Lady” (me) and “The Big Guy” (Dave). She slept with us and woke me up at ridiculous hours to feed her. In her younger years, she would play hockey with the caps from plastic water bottles (much better than store bought cat toys), but as she got older, she was content to be a “schmoo” and nap wherever she felt like it. As the years progressed, she had to have a number of teeth pulled, but she was still a happy eater, and came running whenever she heard kitchen noises.

For the last several years of her life, Hobo was on medications (Tapazole for hyperthyroidism, and Cardizem for her heart), but she was as sweet and sociable as ever. Then, one Sunday afternoon, as I was unpacking groceries (and she’d come to “help”), she suddenly started acting agitated and distressed - and almost instantly lost the use of her back legs and control of her bowels. We rushed her to the emergency veterinary clinic as fast as we could, where they confirmed that she’d had a blood clot, and there was very little they could do for her. After an anguished hour or so (taking x-rays, etc.) we reluctantly made the decision to euthanize her – she was so stressed and in such pain, and the prognosis was so bad, that it seemed the only option. At the end, I just hope she knew how much we loved her and tried keep her comfortable and happy.

It’s so hard. Although people tell us that it will get better, our house feels really empty right now. Although Hobo can never, ever be replaced, we do hope to “continue the karma” by adopting another cat (now that she’s broken us in!). Yesterday our regular vet called to say how sorry he was. In the course of the conversation, he simply said, “She was a great cat.” Yes, she sure was.

Miss Hobo, thanks for everything. We will love and miss you always, and hope to see you again someday.

With much love, Cathy and Dave (“The Food Lady and the Big Guy”)