Ode to Ringo

It has been over a week since I posted last and I am blaming it on the fact that for some reason I feel guilty writing about anything other than Ringo.  So, in order for me to move on, I’ve decided to write an ode to my little orange friend who is no longer with us.  You may think it strange to write about a cat and think what you may, but he was with me for 17 years so it is hard not to get attached.

Here goes the story of Ringo…the coolest cat in town.

My grandma (Mimi) found Ringo when he was a kitten outside the school she was working at.  He was starving and had a ring of tar around his tail where it appeared that someone either ran over it or dipped it in the black gooey substance.  Hence, the name Ringo.  His tail was fine, just a little stubby.  Mimi fed him his first meal of zucchini bread and milk and that it when the love affair with Ringo began.

Mimi took care of Ringo for the first year of his life but on one of my visits to her house Ringo and I developed a bond that would never break (cheesy right?)  Mimi soon passed over ownership to me (much to my parents disappointment).  Ringo was a bit of a butt head in his early years and maintained a steady level of orneriness until the end.  One minute he would be asleep around my neck the next he would be circling me ready to pounce.  Nonetheless, at the end of the day he was always by my side.

Ringo had the best of all worlds.  He had a wonderful life inside the house but he also got to go outside to roam the neighborhood.  He was notorious among our neighbors for “killing the Easter Bunny.”  That’s right, the morning of Easter my dad was in the backyard trying his hardest to get Ringo to let go of a baby rabbit.  I’ll save the details but the Easter Bunny didn’t make it back to his home that day.  Ringo is also the only cat I know that could climb trees…that’s right…he climbed trees with no front claws.

Ringo also managed to have a 90 lb black lab terrified of him and averted the advances of our chocolate lab.  You see, Ringo was the king of the castle, period.  When we brought Joe, our black lab puppy home, Ringo was sure to maintain the King status, even when Joe surpassed him size.  When Annie, our full grown chocolate lab came home she was not aware of the ”King” status and only saw a big fluffy toy that liked to run away.  Ringo managed to survive without much trouble.

As Ringo got older he didn’t change one bit.  Most people that met him were shocked that he was as old as he was…even the vet.  The only noticeable change was that he was completely and utterly carefree.  As long as someone was petting him, rubbing him, holding him, touching him, or heck, even looking at him he was a happy little man.  We coined the “Yesss” position where as soon as you started rubbing his chest he would stretch both front legs out, close his eyes, and roll to his side or back…whichever was most convenient.   His favorite position is what we called “Mama Lovin” where I would throw him over my shoulder, snuggle him into my neck, and proceed to carry him around the house as I carried on. He was an expert spooner and always kept me warm during naps.  His carefree nature even extended to his 91lb yellow lab brother, Charlie.  Ringo would allow Charlie to lick him and nudge him until Charlie got sick of it. 

His favorite pastimes consisted of kung foo fighting with Kitty, getting high on “kitty pot” aka catnip, playing with Q-tips, helping me fold laundry, watching the street below from our balcony and many others.  He also liked to help me work on the days I worked from home.  He loved to lay on my mouse pad as I worked on the computer…mind you he could care less if my hand was on the mouse or if there were papers all over his “space.”  This drove me to purchase a wireless mouse so I could accommodate him.  His all time favorite thing to do was to knock things off of Ben’s desk or our kitchen table…phones, pens, Ben’s ID, sunglasses, anything of substance really.  You could just see it in his eyes…if it was in his way it was a matter of seconds before it was swept off with a quick flick of his paw. 

Ringo had a slew of names…here are the ones that are coming to mind: Bing Bong, Bing Bong Kitty, Bing Bong Bitch (Ben’s name for him when he started meowing at 2am) Ring-a-ding, orange hairy beast (the description we used at the veterinarian) and Ringy.

Ringo was seriously the coolest cat in the world.  He started off his life as a starving barn cat with tar all over his tail and ended it getting loving whenever he wanted, sleeping on whatever he wanted, and completely enamoring any human that came in contact with him (except those allergic to him of course).

We laid Ringo to rest in a little park under a blanket of trees.  Ben wrapped him in his favorite blanket (a gift from Ben to me a couple years ago…we always said one side of it felt like Ringo). Through my tears, I had to laugh because we almost got arrested doing it.  I’m not kidding.  I had to explain to a police officer what we were doing because we were caught in the act.  I was absolutely sobbing telling the officer what was going on and that we are 100% aware that it is illegal…he said he was sorry and to go ahead.  I just know Ringo was smiling at us then.

Our little family isn’t quite the same anymore.  Part of us is definitely missing every time we come home and don’t get greeted by Ringo.  Naps aren’t the same without him, mornings aren’t the same, TV/Movie time isn’t the same, and most of all our critter family is missing it’s patriarch.  Ben and I will forever be telling stories about our Bing Bong Kitty and we will miss him dearly.