Tales of Honey Cat

by Susan Guerrero

Beloved pets, long after they are gone from daily life, remain deep within the hearts of human beings.

Like their departed human counterparts, they never really go away. Pet owners can feel their now quiet presence when least expected. On holiday mornings, special birthdays, or even on a lazy Sunday afternoon, they are there, rounding a corner or meowing with a gust of wind. Such is the case of Honey Cat.

She lived more than nine lives and touched the hearts of many people. She had a really incredible 17 years of life on the planet earth. Honey Cat’s birthplace was Tucson, Arizona. My family was living there at the time she came to us from the litter of kittens that belonged to a dear friend. Two years of pleading, begging, and wailing for a kitten had passed and finally, our very young daughter won. She had given every promise in the book when it came to cat care. In the end, we all came to love that tiny ball of honey-colored fur that fit in the palms of our hands.

As Honey Cat grew in size, she also grew in sheer bravery, courage, and perseverance. The demure, sweet, and loving kitten became a true huntress of the desert. She was afraid of nothing. She loved bringing her booty home to show everyone what she could accomplish.

One day, she sashayed through our kitchen patio doors with a foot-long, spiny backed lizard hanging from her mouth. On that momentous day, I was in the living room when she walked in with her prize. Immediately, I jumped up onto the couch and let out a bloody murderous scream that made Honey Cat drop her prey and run out of the room. The lizard crawled underneath the couch as my daughter came in to investigate what the heck was going on. I stood on the couch cushions, hoping I wouldn’t tumble down onto the living room rug. My daughter, who, even today, handles crisis situations better than her mother, ran to get a broom and a cardboard box. She cajoled the lizard, who, by then was probably scared out of its wits, out from under the couch with the broom handled and popped the cardboard box on top of it. There ol’ lizzie waited until my late husband came home. He got lizzie into the box, closed the cover, and released it back to the desert outside our door.

Honey Cat brought home all kinds of booty such as rabbits, prairie dogs, and other wild creatures. Another time, my daughter summoned me to the patio. “Mom,” she cried, very upset. “Something’s wrong with Honey Cat. She’s making terrible sounds.” I ran out to the patio and sure enough, the cat was making throaty, guttural sounds, unlike any she had ever before elicited. They were chilling. It sounded like someone was sticking a dozen machetes into her soft fur. “Get the cat carrier,” I yelled. “We’ve got to take her to the vet.” Off we went with Honey Cat carrying on with her murderous chorus. The veterinarian came out, retrieved the cat carrier, and disappeared into an examining room. Awhile later, he called us in. Honey Cat was sitting up on a table with a portion of her fur shaved. “Your cat has been bitten by a snake,” the veterinarian said. He showed us the two holes in the cat’s body for proof. He then went on to explain that he couldn’t tell what kind of snake was the perpetrator. However, if it had been a rattlesnake, Honey Cat would need immediate treatment that started at $800. Otherwise, she would not survive the night. We were a young family, with human services workers’ salaries, and could absolutely not afford what could end up being an exorbitant bill. It was impossible. Consequently, the vet said he’d give her alternative meds, keep her overnight, and see if she’d make it. A very tearful delegation left the vet’s office that fateful evening. The next morning, a call to the vet revealed that Honey Cat was flourishing. She had breakfast and was prancing around the caged area she had been put in, according to the vet. He kept her a couple more days and then released her. A happier group of Honey Cat lovers could never have been found as we cradled that beloved animal.

The time came when both kids had graduated high school and were in college. Their time with Honey Cat was far less than during their at home years. It was time to return to the east. I came back first to the east coast and paved the way for my late husband to eventually follow. The kids would make their own choices as to where they wanted to live as well as do for their living. For a while, I bunked with a cousin near Northampton. Loneliness was a huge factor during those endless months and my hubs and the kids decided I needed Honey Cat with me. I flew back to Arizona, arranged with an airline to bring her in a cat carrier on to the plane, and we took off for Bradley International. Honey Cat had been given a tranquilizer to calm her during the trip but it didn’t make the slightest bit of difference. She clawed at her carrier bag and meowed. Loudly. At one point, I heard another passenger say he heard a cat. “Yeah,” said another. “Some lady’s got a cat under her seat.” If Honey Cat escaped her carrier, I was determined to pretend I had no idea to whom she belonged. It was so unnerving. All the way across the country, the cat was miserable. In the airport at last, she was still unhappy. I got a shuttle to my car. It was winter and cold out. The desert cat continued to meow and complain. Once I got the carrier on the seat of the freezing car in some area of a remote parking lot, bam! Honey Cat was fast asleep. It took her more than 8 hours but she was out for the rest of the night. Eventually we found a home we loved in Pittsfield. Honey Cat settled in incredibly well. Because she had always been an indoor/ outdoor cat, she continued with that lifestyle once we moved. She became a kind of queen of the neighborhood.

She’d proudly walk down the street near our house and through the yards of neighbors. Nothing deterred her. We always made her come in at night. One day, an unleashed dog got into our backyard. It dashed behind an area near a shed. Honey Cat quickly followed in pursuit of the canine. The dog barked and growled. Honey Cat’s shrill, fighting voice could also be heard. I screamed for my husband, truly thinking this could be the sad, sorry end of Honey Cat. Crying and praying like crazy, I managed to look out a window to the back yard. The dog, ears pulled way back, came barreling from behind the fence and flew like a shot in the dark out of the backyard. One rarely saw a dog move that fast. He was gone forever. Then came Honey Cat. She walked slowly, head raised, and looked like the Queen of Cats herself. She had won the fight.

She adjusted extremely well to the cold winters of New England, considering she was a cat of the hot Southwest.

She was part of every holiday we celebrated in our home as well as an intrinsic part of our everyday lives.

Whenever we traveled out of town, we had Maryann Elias, pet sitter, come in to take care of Honey Cat. During those years, her service was called Reliable Pet Sitting Company. Maryann was wonderful. We felt 100 percent comfortable leaving Honey Cat with her. The time came when Honey Cat’s health began to fail. She lost so much weight that she began to look emaciated. Our veterinarian, Dr. Sally Umlauf, took wonderful care of her and helped keep her alive as long as possible. Finally, the inevitable happened. Dr. Sally agreed it would be the kindest thing to let Honey Cat go in peace. Why prolong her suffering any longer? Her quality of life was very poor by then. My daughter was with me the day we brought her to be put to sleep. I cradled her in my arms, tears falling like rivers from my eyes. How could Honey Cat, after 17 years with us, be going away? She closed her eyes and became at peace after the injection was given. We took her home in a kind of shoe box. My husband dug a grave for our beloved Honey Cat in the corner of our backyard. We planted flowers there, too.

Years followed but Honey Cat never left our thoughts, hearts, or memories. My husband died in 2020. In November of last year, I sold our home. It was with extreme difficulty that I walked past Honey Cat’s grave for the last time. She was one heck of a warrior cat who made better the lives of our entire family. One wonders if she’s chasing lizards or prairie dogs beyond that rainbow bridge. Sometimes, there seems to be a soft meowing in the wind. For sure, there is a feeling of Honey Cat’s presence in my heart forever

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