Gus Gus – A Posthumous Autobiography

Hello! My name is Gus Gus. I am a cat…a boy cat. If you are reading this you are logged into my Papa’s Web Site, and, if you are in my Papa’s Web Site you have seen lots of pictures of me. I was happy to help my Papa with his Web Site. I thought it was about time to introduce myself more formally and to relate the story of my life.

Actually, I cannot start at the beginning of my life because I do not now remember details of my first four or five years. That doesn’t matter because the important and most enjoyable years of my life began on 22 January 2013. That is the day I met my Mama. (Actually my Mama is my Papa’s daughter, but I think of her as my Mama, so there….) Mama had attended The Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design from which she had graduated in May of 2012. She was living and working in Milwaukee and had a boy-friend named Dean. Here is what Mama wrote about our first meeting:

“I was sad and I wanted a pet. Dean, who had two cats of his own, convinced me that, through proper love and training, cats are not cold-hearted aloof creatures, but engaging, loving, and cuddly teddy bears with brains. We went to two shelters in search of kittens. The first had none, and the second didn’t either. The second didn’t have much in the way of cats at all. I was tired and had lost hope when I saw this grey ball of fur forcing his fat body through the cage wires to be petted. His name in the shelter was ‘Bo’ and he weighed 22 lbs. His little placard was written in the first person and described his being found under a dumpster at the local high school. He loved people food. It also stated that ‘Due to my size, I have a greasy coat because I have a hard time cleaning myself.’ I had to have him. Getting him out of the shelter was the hard part. It was a Sunday, and they insisted on calling my building manager to make sure I could have an animal. Dean said to put his number down on the paperwork and he would cover for me. They called sooner than expected and he had to run off into the kennel area to take the call, all while dogs were barking in the background! When I went to finalize the paper work and take my cat home (it took me, a vet tech and the vet 10 minutes to squeeze this howling animal into the carrier) I almost thought he didn’t want to go! I asked how much money I owed them. Due to his size and age, he was free! I gave them $100 anyway so they could keep feeding and rescuing animals. I think the lady at the front desk cried. I have attached two pictures: one was the moment in the shelter I knew my baby had to be mine (he’s hugging me) and the other Dean took at the moment of victory as I carried him to the car.”

Mama told me that, to her, I was most definitely not a “Bo.” So she named me after the chubby, earnest, lispy mouse, Gus Gus, from the movie Cinderella, noting that when the audience first sees Gus Gus he is in a cage and is set free

Mama took me home, to her apartment in a big, old, and decrepit building in Milwaukee where we lived together in ever-growing harmony for some four months. Then, in late May a disaster struck. The building had constant problems with its plumbing and, on that day, they had a maintenance man enter Mama’s apartment to work on the pipes. I was, and am still, very shy so, when he came into the apartment, I hid under Mama’s bed. When the man opened a wall to gain access to the pipes, he punctured a high pressure hot water pipe and immediately the apartment was filled with spraying water which flooded the rooms with an inch of water. Fortunately, shortly after this happened, Mama came home and rescued me from under the bed. It took a long time for the man to shut off the spraying water and, by then, much of Mama’s apartment was in ruin. Because Mama could not stay in her apartment, she took me to stay with my “cousins,” the cats belonging to her boy-friend, Dean. Their names are Brixton and Voltaire. I was there only a few days when Papa drove to Milwaukee to move Mama out of her damaged apartment and to take both of us to live with him until Dean and Mama could move together into a new apartment in Chicago. This was the first time I met my Papa. After a long (nearly six-hour) drive I was thrilled to get out the carrier and to explore his big house. A month later, Mama and I went back to live with Dean and his cats until October of that year when Mama asked me to move back down to live with and take care of Papa, which I agreed to do. Then, with a short one-month change, my new home ever since has been with Papa here in Danville.

I lived with my Papa in contentment for some three and a half years. Papa worked nights, so I was always waiting for him at the front door when he came home from his job. Papa said he could never figure out how I knew to be standing right inside the front door at the exact time he arrived–did I hear the beep of the car door-lock remote, or did I hear him when he stepped onto the front porch? Or did I have a hidden timepiece? (I never told him my secret!) Sometimes, when Papa did not open the front door immediately, I would paw the curtain covering the glass of the door. One day I pulled too hard and the whole sheer and the top rod fell down! Papa thought that was funny.

There was another incident which really embarrassed me. One night Papa was sitting at his desk in his home office, a room just off the living room. I was walking from the kitchen, through the dining room, to the living room (where I liked to lie down on the carpet to watch Papa and wait for him to motion me to come to him so he could pet me). Just before I got to the living room, I saw this “thing” on the floor. I didn’t know what it was, but when I went to it and touched it, it moved! It scared me so much that I must have let out a screech. (Papa later said he had never heard such a sound!) Well, I have to say that I ran as fast as I could to hide under Papa’s bed. Papa said he looked around from his desk at my scream, but didn’t see anything, so he didn’t get up immediately to see what was going on. When he later walked into the dining room, he also saw something on the floor and he also did not know what it was–until he also touched it and again it moved. We never knew how that small brown bat got into the house (we can only guess down the chimney and around the fireplace glass doors?). Fortunately for us, the bat was pretty far gone and not able to fly around. Papa removed the bat and, eventually, he coaxed me out from under his bed. I was glad when he stopped calling me his “Bat Cat”!

Actually, I am very shy. Oh, OK–I am scared sometimes. When people come to visit Papa I run away to my hiding spot (I’m not telling you, or Papa, where that is!) And I am really afraid of thunder–off to my hiding place every time it booms.

Twice a day Papa gives me clean water and fills my food dish. Often he slips me bits of people food, especially from the turkey and ham he uses for his salads. We also have other traditions. In the morning, when he finishes his cereal, he puts a little milk in his empty bowl and places it on the floor for me to drink. Also, Papa usually eats his supper while siting in bed watching TV; when he finishes he pours a little milk into a saucer and holds it for me to drink. On special occasions, Papa adds tuna to my dry food. I like to lick the spoon he uses to transfer the tuna from the can!

I prefer to sleep on Papa’s bed, during the time he watches TV and when he sleeps. When Papa sleeps, I often get off the bed, for roaming around and other (unmentionable) things. When I jump back onto the bed, Papa wakes up a bit and gives me petting when I walk up beside him before we both go back to sleep.!

Shortly after I came to live with Papa we found that he didn’t know some things he should have done to care for me. He failed to comb and brush me. I began to get matting of my fur coat. It finally got so bad Papa had to take me to the groomer where they shaved off most of my fur. I looked silly, but fortunately the weather was warm enough that I did not catch a cold.

Last January Papa had to do a lot of traveling. Because he would not be home for several days each week, I had to go back to stay with Mama, her rabbit, Winnie, her boy-friend, Dean, and his two cats (my “cousins”), Brixton and Voltaire. All of us in a small one-bedroom apartment. So I got reacquainted with these three guys. It took a little while, but then we got along famously. I even took to grooming Voltaire and Winnie.

“Brixton (~ 12 years) is the older of the two, a ‘Butterscotch Locket’ (blonde cat with a little white spot on his chest); he is the friendly and sociable leader. When guests come over he happily meets everyone and insists on inspecting them and receiving pets. He perches either at the window or on the couch so he can survey his lands and keep track of all the other creatures in it. When home alone he likes to make nests in the bed. He is also incredibly talkative, chirping, purring and mewing as if having a conversation, and replying and answering you whenever spoken to. He is the alarm clock of the household, waking us up and keeping us on schedule; he even comes into the bathroom when we are showering to make sure we do not drown. He and Gus Gus never didn’t get along, but Brix saw him as just the lowest member of the group.

“Voltaire (~10 years) is a beautiful, chubby, classic orange tabby. This little pile of milk-toast is the biggest baby in the world (and secretly Dean’s favorite). He is frightened of anyone who comes into our house. However, when we are just living our daily lives, he is a cuddly baby who waits by thedoor for Dean to come home every day, and won’t stop screaming at the top of his lungs until Dean picks him up for a hug. He dreams of being a mouser or professional barn cat, but his disposition as a big baby precludes him from achieving his goal. This cat will not go to sleep at night until Dean tucks him in on the pillows (at least 2!) and cuddles him to sleep. Volty is a head-butter; he rubs his head all over you whenever you ask him to (a cat hug). If you are lying in bed, he insists on sitting on your chest, your shoulder or getting under crook of your arm. Back in 2013 when Gus Gus came, Volty ran up immediately and smacked him across the nose, just to earn his way up the ranks of the household. They have become friends over time, grooming and cuddling each other–something he and Brixton have never done in all their years as brothers.

 

“Winnie. (The Rabbit) He was named Winchester. Before he arrived in a flurry of action when I was asked mere days before if I would take in a homeless bunny he responded to the name Winnie, which suited him far better. A lovely mottled-grey harlequin rabbit with the longest sweetest snout I have ever seen. We re-named him Winnipeg (since Winnie could still be his nick-name) and gave him the surname Sneut (a play on ‘snout’ but sounding more French-Canadian) making his full ‘title’ Winnie the Sneut (like Winnie the Pooh). Winnie is incredibly energetic and playful. He hops around whenever we are home, weaving in between Dean’s legs and earnestly standing up on two legs, begging to be chased around and played with. He is more puppy than rabbit. He has the potential to be a famous show-jumping competitor if only we had the time for training. No, really, rabbit show-jumping is a thing in the Netherlands and there is prize money. Anyway he’s my sweet little boy, and a wonderful friend. He will never fill the hole caused by the loss of my past amazing creatures, but he is finding his place in our home and becoming a wonderful Familiar in his own right. (Familiars are a witch’s pet, the ones that help her make magic; I consider all my pets to be my Familiars.)”

I have another cousin who I have not yet met. Sophie lives with Papa’s older son, Charles, and his wife, Loren, in Evanston. I met them once when they visited Papa and me down here, but I have never been to their apartment. Charles and Loren wanted to add a few words about Sophie:

“Sophie. (Age unknown) No one knows where Sophie came from (other than from a Craig’s List posting) but what is known is that she is an amazing beast. Her chipped ear indicates a past life amongst alley cats, with many vets remarking she’s ‘come a long way for a feral gal.’ She was forced into Charles’ life by the scruff, but he hasn’t regretted it since the moment he fed her out of his hand. She greets friends at the door, has frequent meowversations with anyone who will listen, trains for the catlympics in the hallway, and has frightened her neighbor cat nemeses from the outside sliding glass door. Yes, this mini-panther is the softest, sweetest, smartest cat you’ll ever meet. Just make sure you always have a pat and a conversation ready and she’ll be your best friend furrr life!”

Papa tells a somewhat different story: every time he goes to visit Charles and Loren the moment Sophie catches sight of him she is out of the room and in hiding!

Papa’s younger son, Terry, and his girl-friend, Rachel, don’t have a pet (Rachel is allergic to cats). I feel sorry for them.

At the end of January Papa was no longer traveling. So he came to get me from Mama’s and brought me back to our house here in Danville. Papa and I immediately resumed our life as before. Except that I have not been feeling well lately. I am having trouble eating and pooping and I vomit a lot. I think Papa is going to take me to the vet soon so we can see if he can cure me. In the meanwhile, I wanted to tell all of you my story and I have attached a lot of pictures to share with you.

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On 23 March 2017 Gus Gus was admitted to the care of our veterinarian. Following an X-ray with barium contrast which showed an obstruction between his stomach and intestine, the exploratory surgery, on 27 March, revealed a large tumor at this site. The prognosis was that any attempt at reconstructive surgery would be difficult, painful, and unlikely to provide Gus Gus with an acceptable future quality of life. In order to prevent his further suffering, the decision was made for euthanasia. We miss him.