Within the past year, at different times, sadly, my family lost all 3 of our animals. Our 2 kitties, Finbar and Fenway, and our beloved Golden Retriever, Murphy, all crossed over Rainbow Bridge. We know by our faith that someday, hopefully not too soon, we will see all 3 of them again. That furry thought is comforting.
We got both kitties, at separate times, during the summer of ’04. For those Red Sox fans out there, you know a yuge smile comes across your face just hearing that miracle year mentioned. The year the ’86 year old “Curse of the Bambino” was broken. (Hoping and praying for another big fat beautiful, glorious W, this October, too!)
Finbar was a special gift to my Bridget on her 12th birthday from my dear friend, Nancy Javor. Finbar was a tuxedo cat, a mostly black cat with a soft, very silky, furry white chest. He was a big “singer” (meow, meow, MEEEOOOWWW!) when we first got him. We named him Finbar after the tuxedo wearing, singing Irish tenor, former Catholic Priest, Finbar Wright. (Irish Tenor, Ronan Tynan was singing 7th inning stretches at NY Yankee games, case closed right there on using his name.) Bridget and Finbar were inseparable. I swear this cat understood Bridget unlike any feline animal that I’ve ever known and I’ve known many. This cat had intuition. I’m not kidding. He was there for her through thick and thin, good times and bad, always just appearing out of nowhere whenever she needed to give or get a warm, fuzzy kitty embrace. Magical year? For the Red Sox, yes. For Bridget? She was blessed with 13 magical years together with her beloved Finny!
Wanting a second kitten and a feline friend for Finbar, Bridget and I found Fenway at a RI animal shelter after a month long search for “the right kitten.” Nancy told us, don’t choose a kitten just by what they look like, choose a kitten by how they act when they’re picked up. If all their claws are out, they are meowing and seemed scared to death, that’s a no. If they aren’t clawing you to death and are purring, that’s a yes. After courageously saying no, and peeling off many scared to death kittens in our travels (which ain’t easy, cuz you get about two claws off your shirt and then several more claws latch on instantaneously), the moment I picked up Fenway, he was purring LOUDLY and seemed quite content with human contact. Bridget and I looked at each other and smiled. We knew immediately, this kitten was ours!! We brought him home to our cottage and within an hour or two, are you sitting down? Yup, we lost him! Ahhhhh!, No lie. He disappeared. Oh, the tears and dreaded questions…Who left the door opened? Did you see him run outside? Where could he go? We enlisted several neighbors to help search for him. More tears, this time, mine, and more dread, also mine! Thank goodness, thank God, and thank St. Anthony, Bridget found him several hours later, meowing ever so softly, hiding deep up inside the arm of our pull-out couch. Yes, that couch, the one Joe opened up completely and we all looked inside. We saw and heard nothing. Yeah, that couch. Hours later, only Bridget’s trained cat whisperer ear could hear him. “I know he’s in there, Dad, please look again, I can hear him!” Our newest furry, all gray kitty with the tiny white patch of fur shaped like a heart on his belly, was back in our arms. Another miracle. The 2004 Academy Award in the category of “the best fake out to prospective owners in an animal shelter that “honestly, I’m not scared to death,” went to Fenway Scott. Purrrrrrrrr, purrrrrr, purrrrrr.
Btw, he was named well before the end of the ’04 MLB season. We are sure our beloved, purring Fenway helped break their curse. And, fwiw, the Sox won the pennant that year on my birthday and the the World Series on Molly’s Birthday! “Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles!” (From what musical are those lyrics? And what’s the next line?)
During their first few months together, Finbar seemed a bit annoyed that his “only cat gig” was up after just two short months! Finbar attacked our new sweet, little fella, Fenway, with seemingly, pure glee! Chasing the heck out of him, biting him, throwing lefts and rights, hissing at him. Can you say, bully?!! I’ll teach ya who’s boss around here! Poor Fenway getting hazed by his new “frat house brother.” (I remember thinking, what did I do? Couldn’t I have just been happy with one kitten?) They eventually learned to get along, but they weren’t real close sleeping pals. If one was on a bed and the second jumped up, the first would immediately jump down. (I did however almost get embarrassed once when I walked into my bedroom and low and behold, the two of them were both on the bed, REALLY cleaning each other, if you know what I mean, both unaware of my presence. I’m not saying I started blushing, but it was a tad weird!)
For the folks out there who think cats are dumb, I’m hear to say, cats have quite a good memory! Remember how top banana Finbar attacked his then smaller new frat brother? Well, when Fenway reached his heavy weight fighting class of about 20#, Finbar was maxed out at only a middle-weight class of about 14#. Getting the picture? For no reason, out of the blue, low cat sugar, whatever it was, Fenway would attack the cat crapola out of Finbar. Finbar would look at me as if to say, I need a little help here!! I’d break it up! But in my best Italian accent, I’d say to Finbar, “Karma’s a beach, capeesh?”
Hey, Ty Pennington, “MOVE THAT cat litter BOX!!” Here comes Murphy! Or as our good friend, Ambie Miller (GRHS), used to say with his thick RI accent, MERFFY! Murphy was our big fluffy 85+# Golden. Murphy joined our clan after both cats. They were none too happy except when he was crated!! We learned very quickly that dogs will eat anything and everything! (Cue: the above Ty Pennington comment).
Within Murph’s first year of life, he had a exploratory lap, aka, $800 worth of surgery into his gut to physically remove the now chewed up pipe cleaners (that the cats were batting around, poor cats they get blamed for everything!) and for dogs, the smellier the better athletic sock, that he also ate. Both got stuck in his stomach and wouldn’t pass on their own (a good thing, they would’ve perforated his intestines!) Hence the vomiting x 2 days w/o seeming or acting sick. Nurse Kate here, I’m telling ya, he’s not sick, he’s just vomiting. It’s a mechanical thing, something is blocking his plumbing! Murphy was out of commission for a bit post-op, but he recovered nicely. All remaining pipe cleaners were thrown out, never to be used for a school project ever again!
Murphy had a very long coat of beautiful golden fur. His underbelly had white and golden fur that was probably 8-9″ long. People used to ask, “Is he even a Golden? I’ve never seen one with that much fur!” I’d snarkily answer, “Yes, and this is nuttin, you should see the amount of fur all over my house!”
Murph, Smurph, Poochy-loochy, Pooka-shell, Pookalooka, on and on…ohhhh, the nicknames we’d come up with….He had many and would respond to any and all. Why?Because he was a people pleaser, especially if you had food! (Flight of Ideas: Before Murphy, we had another Golden named Kerry. Yes, my Irish friends, named for the famous Ring of Kerry in Ireland. My nursing school friend, Lifestar Lynn, nicknamed our Kerry, “Carrie-Saxon-Perry.” Google it. It was funny back in the late 80’s!)
Shall I even get into the crappy skin issues that poor MERFY had to deal with mostly during summer? Wait, that I, mommy dearest, had to deal with aka, take care of, almost every single summer?! His skin would get hot spots, especially after swimming in the ocean, which he of course, LOVED to do. He’d retrieve a stick or a tennis ball for as many times as your arm could throw it. He’d bring it back, drop it somewhere in your vicinity, and then do that doggie head to toe, ShAkkkkkke all over,..you!
Knowing his skin would break down from the ocean water (wth, salt water cures everything, right? Not on MERFY!) No matter how much we’d bathe him after swimming and dry him the best we could, he’d start scratching and before you knew it, a trip back to our CT vet, 10 days worth of Keflex antibiotics, and yes, the dreaded Cone of Shame, aka, E-collar. One year I found a nicer cone. (My ideaR of a nicer cone is two scoops!) Any-who, It was a blue blow-up tube and looked like a life preserver ring around his neck. We’d hear, “Murphy going boating?” Haha…Finally, after about 8 years, I caught on and took him to get a summer haircut. All that golden hair got shaved. I loved it. He, honest to goodness, looked embarrassed, I kid you not. Hanging his head as if he was stripped naked in front of others. Sorry, Murph, you’ll get used to it and he did. Definitely less hot spots without that maxi length fur coat in 90 degree weather!
We cried a lot when we lost Finny in March, Murphy in April and then Fenway, 10 month later. After a 1.5+ hour car ride home from RI, MEOWING at the top of his lungs, he literally dropped dead. Joe found him in the office and just thought he was sleeping. He was cold. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t breathing. (Flight of ideaRs: I’ve often wondered who’s gonna do CPR on me if I need it at home?) Anywho, our house, for the first time in 30 years, was void of any pets. It was too quiet and I was sooo lonely. I decided that to save my sisters-in-laws, my God-daughter /niece, Molly’s significant other and good-looking beau, “Joey-Reset”, all of whom are highly allergic to cats, I needed to find me a hypo-allergenic cat! A Call into Lifestar Lynn, STAT! Where’d you get your Devon Rex cat, Josephine, again?
XO, Katie Dunn Scott
August 30, 2018 @ The Irish Jig
Matunuck, RI
Next blahhhhhgg: My Funny, Fetching, Flying, Feisty, Feline FIONA! ☘️
Kate’s Flight of Ideas 