I didn’t have pets, I had a menagerie. A black menagerie of 2 black cats, Marco and Polo, and a black Lab, AJ, named after my children, Aaron and Jess, plus a queen tabby cat called Tigger. AJ came first in 1992 when my daughter was 7, my son, 5, and we lived in a big house in Lincoln Park. AJ enjoyed life as the only-dog until October 17, 1995, Jess’ 10th birthday. Running free at the in-law’s homestead in Ohio, AJ was in dog heaven. My son Aaron needed to mail a postcard depicting the local Amish life for a school assignment to make up for the days he missed making this trip. We hiked down the road with AJ to deposit the postcard in Grandpa’s roadside mailbox. Spotted 2 young-ish black cats coming up the road and watched, expecting them to high-tail it into the bushes. They continued to march towards us so AJ took off to meet them. They stood their ground, turning sideways like scary Halloween cats with fur standing on end looking like a matched set of dog-eating monsters standing tall on the tips of their extended claws. AJ barked and the cats leaped sideways, as cats will do, right up to his nose, hissing viciously. AJ froze trying to back away slowly from these obviously crazy, possibly rabid cats. When he retreated, the smaller of the pair greeted me cat style, brushing his arched back against my leg and raising his tail high to wink his butt and give me a sweet “meow.” These cats, not yet full-grown, followed us back to Grandpa’s where Aaron and I settled onto the wooden swing to watch the game of cats and dog that unfolded. AJ chased them back forth, up and down trees, never catching them. When he collapsed in exhaustion, the cats jumped up on our swinging laps. Then the smaller one jumped off my lap, marched boldly over to AJ and licked his ear. I knew I had to have him, but what about his brother? They were clearly a team, and winter was just around the corner. How could I take away his fearless leader, leaving him to fend for himself in the cold Ohio winter? And so I decided to take on these two stray crazy cats. After shots, neutering, partial declawing and ear mite treatments, my “free” cats cost me about $600. They were well worth it. The kids named them Marco and Polo after the hero-cats of some children’s story. The kids were beside themselves with joy but now I faced the reality of getting them home to Chicago and how to keep them from running away in the meantime. Made a trip to Wal-Mart for carriers, food, bowls and litter pans, to set them up temporarily in Uncle Tim’s garage. As I poured the litter Polo jumped right in and demonstrated how to use it. When he finished, Marco followed immediately after and since then they never once soiled in the house. Most cats are clean but these 2 were impeccable and their fur glistened. The owner of a boarding place we used once told me she never saw anything like them. The staff frequently let Polo roam the office just for the joy of him.
Marco and Polo looked a lot alike but their temperaments were completely different. , Polo, the smaller one, was very alert and gregarious, but he refused to become fully domesticated. Though well fed, he retained his hunting skills much to the dismay of the local chipmunks who understandably called him “the Terminator.” Marco, on the other hand would have preferred to tie on a bib and be spoon-fed his Friskies.
Polo ranged far and wide, traversing neighbors’ yards sometimes entering their houses to eat their pet’s food. Polo was clearly an alpha male. More than once, people mistook him for a stray - an expert at getting out of any collar - and set up a litter box and bed for him. But he always came back. He was known to go down a backyard slide with a kid down the block and once he even jumped into someone’s car. I feared he could easily take a one-way ride downtown one day and never be seen again. I told the kids “this cat is not likely to die in bed. We have to brace ourselves for the fact that his Type A personality is more likely to end up with tire tread across his back.” Marco, in contrast, found the trek from the front door around to the back to be all the exercise he ever needed. One walk around the block and he was ready to nap for the day. He once came home with a butterfly in his mouth, and we all agreed it must have been dead when he found it. Any critter Marco could catch was probably best removed from the gene pool.
Polo loved his brother Marco despite their opposite personalities. They would sleep so entwined, you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. But then every so often, they would wage this sibling battle completely out of character, fighting for several minutes, then separating, walking away and pretending it never happened.
When my husband and I decided to separate, we sold that house and I moved about a mile away. In the chaos of moving, Polo disappeared and was missing for over a week. I returned every day to call for him and alert the neighbors, but he was nowhere to be found. When I went back to the house to do a more thorough clean-up, I kept looking to the sliding glass door hoping to see Polo waiting to come in for supper. Then when I gathered up my buckets and brooms to return home, Polo came running out of nowhere brushing by me as if to say “where the hell have you been?” I couldn’t believe it. He was skinny and scruffy. I cannot imagine where he’d been hiding all that time. We were so thrilled to have him back. He stayed inside for several days and soon was back to his old roaming self.
When the kids were off to college, I had a lot of concerns about re-locating the menagerie to California in 2006, so I came out to reconnoiter and secure a place in advance of the move. I found the perfect little house to rent in Santa Monica with a small yard and no stairs for AJ as his hips were deteriorating. The house is on a corner near several schools and the black menagerie were a daily treat for lots and lots of kids – especially Polo who went out of the yard to greet passers-by.
AJ left us first, in 2008 at the age of 15. Then Marco died in 2010 with a crippling growth on his spine. Polo had little patience for them and their problems with aging. I think he rather enjoyed his year of being ONLY-pet for a while but he obviously missed his counterpart Marco and tried to snuggle with me as they had snuggled. He started making more and more trips down the block where many many cats reside, helping himself to their food and water and cozy spots.
Polo departed his gaunt and saggy fur bag at about 11:30 AM on October 11, 2011. I walked into the treatment room where his arthritis was first diagnosed as his downward spiral began. The table was draped with a blanket of brightest green – my green. And the attendant had applied a neon green bandage to hold the catheter. Thank You Spirit. The attendant looked at me in my green-ness said “I didn’t know... I just grabbed….” Well WE knew. Dr. Fitzpatrick took one look at Polo and said “It’s time. This is the right thing.” I know. His spirit says “It’s OK.”
Thank you, thank you, thank you dearest Polo for a grand tour of this life. For showing how to live fearlessly and fully. Polo, I love you so much and I miss you already. Getting that I’ve been missing you for quite some time now as you were slowly but surely detaching from that body. I’d told him long ago he would have to be very clear at the end because I would never want to part with him. I’d had the experience of seeing AJ and Marco’s spirits in restored bodies immediately after their release. And then again, after leaving the vet with the empty carrier, before I even reached the parking lot, Polo’s Spirit soared past my head chasing and being chased by AJ and Marco, his precious friends. I truly think he owned me more than I ever owned him. Polo, you were truly a beneficial presence on this planet. You were one really cool cat!
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