My Best Friend Once was a Cat!

Dedicated To Punk E. Allen Williams

Deneale K. Williams, Yahoo Contributor Network
Aug 21, 2007

Many ages ago I had a best friend, and it was my cat. Yes, I am being serious. When my cat had kittens, my husband told me to pick one, and raise it to do whatever I wanted it to do, and it would do it. He said cats were and are better than dogs. I intended to test this theory, since as a child, all we ever had was birds, and hamsters.

 

I named him Punk E Allen. I named him that, because his hair, when he came out of his Mother, was a very punked out hairdo. I always named my pets litters. Punk E took the name literally, and decided he would be the punk of the litter, and wrestled and fought with his siblings.

However, Punk E was not the cat, I chose. I was at Notary at the time, and people always pulled into my drive way. One day I took the children to the store, while my husband was at work. When we came home, the cat I had chosen to keep, named Black Beard, was smashed in the drive way. I didn't pull all the way into the drive, I left part of the cars rear hanging out into the street, told the kids to stay put, and they stood and watched me from the windows. I climbed out, and went to the kitten. His eye was out of his head, his face was totally smashed, and he was dead, blood and guts everywhere. I screamed "No!" and fell to my knees crying.

To me, they often say, everything happens for a reason. I guess I was supposed to keep Punk E. But it truly disgusted me that a customer would smash a cat, and not leave a note, at least apologizing. I guess too, there was a slim possibility they didn't even know they did it. Thinking of it now, still hurts to this day.

Punk E was finally old enough to take away from his Mother. It was winter time, and it was bitter cold. After all, we lived in Akron, Ohio. I wanted my cat to go places with me, and keep me company. My kids didn't ride a bus, and I didn't want them walking home on the slick ice, so I picked them up from School. Me and Punk E. I drove a station wagon, one that had the third row seat facing the back window glass. In the back, there are little cubbies, the kids usually kept toys in them. I cleaned one out, and that was exactly where Punk E chose to go, so he could see out, and enjoy the view.

Many of people cannot drive so swell on ice and snow, and every winter. I would get or help people dig out their cars, or get them unstuck from the ice, or in the snow. These people- and I hate to say this, were women. They would slam onto the gas when stuck or sliding in ice, the wrong thing to do. I don't mean to brag, but my own husband taught me how to drive. And once winter came into play, he took me to a deserted parking lot and told me to goose it, and then told me to get it under control. He gave me assignments, like spin it left, and pull it out right, like there is a car right there you have to avoid, and he would point. So I learned the ice, and how to control my car.

Punk E and I would push others cars out with our car, pull cars out with our car and a chain, and help others out. They all worried about Punk E and could not believe I had taken him with me. Punk E did not try to escape, and it became routine, at the time to pick up the kids, he was always ready and around to make sure he went.

Spring came, and it was warm enough to leave the windows down. And yes, the back glass in the station wagon, also rolled down. Did I do it? Yes, and yes Punk E stayed. He simply watched and enjoyed the view.

I also taught Punk E that he had to sleep with us, my husband and I. And he did. However, he also slept with each child, taking turns one by one. I would usually have him for a week, and then a week with the kids, back and forth. He shared his love with everyone.

Punk E was lazy, and a lot of fun, if you can believe that. He was a cuddler, and loved to lay on my chest. He played with the kids when they played with their hot wheels, and he co-operated when they would drag him to me. I was scared to death the kids were going to get a hernia, because Punk E weighed well over twenty pounds. But it was also cute to see. This just walking baby, not even two yet, proudly carrying Punk E to their Mother. They would grunt out the words as they walked, "Here Mommy." Pink E never fought the kids, he just hung there, with his back paws dragging. No claws out, nothing.

That cat was born when my third born son was born. Punk E, was around before the last two kids were born, so he knew babies and how to act around them. Never ever did he lay near anyone's face, and try to steal their breath- per myth.

Punk E could be found lying under my husbands back as he slept. When I would see this, I would freak out, because I thought he was being crushed. So I would pull Punk E out, and back under my husband he would go. I never understood that. I never even understood why my husband let it happen, however he often complained of a back ache.
When life would give me lemons, I always went to Punk E and told him about it. I complained and cried, and he would keep his eyes open and listen. He would wait until I was done, to eat or go on with whatever it was he truly wanted to do.

That cat lived for many of years, he even traveled to Florida with us. He had problems adjusting to the heat, but survived. One of the funny things about Punk E, he never came in when you held a door open. He was carried over a threshold since he was a kitten, so holding the door open, telling him to go in- he would simply look up at you. My Father-in-law wouldn't listen and believe us. Punk E was on a leash, because we were in new territory, I didn't want him running away. Punk E had no issues with leashes, we used it traveling to Florida pottying him at rest area's. My Father-in-law, seen that Punk E's tongue was hanging out, the heat was really getting to him, he said Punk E would come in, he was hot and thirsty. Punk E waited, and waited. This routine went on for many hours, finally my Father-in-law knew and believed, and bent over and picked Punk E up, and carried him, complaining the whole way. We tried to warn him, but he was insistent-Punk E could be broken.

To go outside, Punk E would literally say "Me-out!" at the door. Yes I know what you're thinking it was probably meow sounding like out, but let me tell you, he stressed the T at the end of the word out. There was a difference when he was just meowing. All the kids and my husband heard it, as did my in-laws. They knew it and heard it, and believed it, once they did. "OK, you're right, he wants out, and asked." My father-in-law said. "He said it plain as day!"

The reason Punk E was always carried over the threshold, when we would call him to come in, he would come. But once he got to the door, whomever was at the door, would do something like this: "There you are buddy, come here." And bend over and pick him up. Like my husband said, you teach the cat to do what you want it to, its going to learn, and he did.

Several years after being in Florida, and finally at out own place, Punk E was deteriorating. We knew he was dying, he was about fifteen or so years old. One day Punk E climbed into my bed, he was crying, he laid down onto the pillow, I tucked him into the blanket. He let out a loud meow, from deep inside, and he stared right into my eyes. I knew what he said. He asked me if he could die. I told him he could, and he died as I petted him to sleep.

Punk E was my best friend. He never lied to me, stole from me, and accepted me and my family just as we are. He truly loved us, and we truly loved him. And yes, by all means, kittens can be trained to do exactly what you want them to do, including speak. I miss my Punk E, and know he is watching us from heaven, making God carry him over the threshold now! And my husband says his back is much worse now without punk E, because he believes his back needs him, believe that or not!

Published by Deneale K. Williams