Nearly 14 years ago, the guy I was dating and I decided to get a cat together.  We were 19 and I mistakenly thought that getting a pet together would make him more responsible and look at me as wife/mother material.  He went to a groomer who was giving away cats and surprised me at work with a scrawny little tortoiseshell kitten.  She was less than pleasant looking.  I had been looking forward to a scrumptious little ball of fur and instead I was presented with a kitten who looked like she had 5 different colors of paint splattered all over her. Regardless, I fell in love with her silly little face that seemed to be split down the middle.  We named her Rodman after the Bulls power forward Dennis Rodman, which led to years of people calling “her” a “him”.

The boyfriend came and went, but Rodman moved with me no less 4 times in as many years during her kitten/young cat years.  Through the years, I came to realize that her tortie coloring came with something owners call “tortitude”.  Boy did she ever have an attitude.  I was afraid to sleep after I introduced her to her new little brother, Oliver, in her second year. She was not pleased.  An event that pleased her even less was the introduction to my now husband.  When he came in the picture, she wanted nothing to do with him.  He was a bother and took away precious Rodman-Mommy time in her book.  And honestly, Mr. Diva wasn’t too thrilled with her either.

He would walk into a room and she would screech at him.  He would try to pet her and she would run away when he got within arm’s length.  He would finally get her to lay on his chest only to have her jump on his nether regions when I walked in the room.  She would seemingly lurk in the corners waiting for him to walk down the stairs with a load of laundry and dart in between his feet in efforts to kill him (at least that’s how HE sees it).  Finally in the last few years, they finally started to get along.  Don’t get me wrong, I was still her favorite and she loved when he was away on business, but she sot him out.  He had finally past the test.

On Saturday, we had to put dear Rodman to sleep.  Kidney failure, pneumonia and seizures in the final hours that came out of nowhere forced our hands.  She fought for days and on Friday night she was actually doing better.  We brought her home for the evening and planned to take her for her final treatments early the next morning.  She hung out on the couch with us.  Mr. Diva told her she was a pretty kitty and that he was glad she was fighting so hard.  I tried to get her to eat but all she wanted was to be cuddled.  She even gave Mr. Diva one more snub as she bypassed him for my hand.

Mr. Diva and I had held hands and stroked little Rodman as she took her final breath and the doctor said she wanted to go and to let her know it was ok.  I was a wreck but I looked at my husband and saw a tear in his eye.  At first I thought her was just sad for me because I was *her* human, but I realized that the animal he once tolerated was now a family member he was going to miss as much as me.

I once wrote that spouses are the only family you pick, but I was wrong.  Goodbye sweet Rodman - you will always be loved and missed.

Rodman 1996-2009