In January of 2008, a half-grown tuxedo cat started hanging around our house. He was friendly. For a week or so we'd talk to him and give him some pets as we went in and out of our house. We suspected he was sleeping under our front porch. After some days I figured the cat was hungry; all we had in the house was dog food/kibble so I put some out for him, thinking that he'd soon find his way home.
Most days he'd come around to the back of the house and peer into the basement window which was just above where I sat at my computer. He'd sit right up against the glass, looking handsome with his tuxedo white front and his little “Got Milk?” mustache.
We kept resisting taking him in because we already had my daughter's beagle, Phoebe. But the cat was tenacious. Then, on Martin Luther King day the winter turned fierce and it was bitterly cold. We just could not leave him outdoors.
We told ourselves, “if he uses the cat box and doesn't shred the furniture and he's healthy, we might let him stay.” From the very start, he was a perfect gentleman around the house. He didn't try to sit on the dining room table or jump up on a kitchen countertop. So then it was, “if he's healthy we might keep him.” He got a clean bill of health from the vet, and it turned out he was already neutered. Bonus: no spraying.
Such a good boy. We wondered how he ended up homeless. Did someone dump him in the neighborhood? Was he lost? Did he leave owners who were mean? Nobody claimed him. Anyway, he got along fine with the beagle, so now we had two pets. Michael thought we should name him Cozi, after the jazz drummer Cozy Cole.
Phoebe died that following August, so then Cozi was the only pet in our house.
We had no idea how long he'd been homeless, but he did like to spend time outdoors, so for a lot of his life he was an indoor/outdoor kind of guy. We have a stand of bamboo in our back yard, where he loved to hang out. I suspect he would get the occasional mouse or chipmunk and I only ever caught him once with a bird. He knew there was a bowl of Iams kibble in the house whenever he needed a nosh. The only times we'd see him leave our yard was when he headed across the street where our neighbor Michael C's beautiful landscaping included a fish pond. Yeah.
Cozi was always pretty low-maintenance. He was chill. He enjoyed lying in front of a warm fireplace blaze, or occasionally lounging between us on a futon as we watched a movie on tv. However, when we played music in the living room and if it was some song he didn't dig, or if we make mistakes, he'd leave the room. I suspect he thought we were hacks.
Then there was that time several years ago when we returned from two weeks in Europe. We had arranged for TWO caretakers to check on him, feed him and clean his box and I thought that sufficient for a guy as chill as Cozi. However, when we walked into the house from that trip we couldn't find him. We called and called. Our house is very small – we looked all over and still . . . Then when we started unpacking, we heard this unearthly howling coming from downstairs. Cozi was standing in the middle of the basement, looking toward the stair and yelling at us: HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME FOR THIS LONG? It continued for at least 20 minutes. Eventually he forgave us for being away.
Over the last few months his health declined. And for the first time, he'd jump into our bed, and snuggle down between us.
No need to talk about the details. But he would cry out at night, and knowing that cats and dogs are good at hiding pain, we took him to the vet yesterday afternoon. She said there was nothing she could do to improve his quality of life. I knew in my heart that was so. I think my husband was blindsided.
So, yesterday we let go of Mr. Cozi. By our calculations, he was 17 and a half, which would make his birthday in March, so I'm going to say he was born on my birthday. We miss him now and will miss him always.
Cozi Cole Bashaw. March 9, 2007 – December 17, 2024.
Such a good, quirky cat boy.
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