LE CHAT VEUT SORTIR


Dartagnan was such a beautiful cat.
I found him when I was 12/13 years old. The bus we took to go to the nearby town where our Junior High School was, would drop us off at the entrance of Malves and we would then walk back home.
One day, my friend Sandrine and I saw a litter of kittens playing in the garden of one of the old houses. Of course, we went to see the kittens. There were 4 of them, and the owner had named them after the 3 musketeers and Dartagnan. She had named this kitten Dartagnan because he was the most daring and friendly one. The whole litter was believed to be male; however a nearby neighbor later adopted one of those kittens who turned out to be a female… Dartagnan was such a little heart thief. Upon getting back home, I begged and begged my parents to adopt Dartagnan. We already had a cat, Arabesque, a beautiful grey cat and my parents felt one cat was enough for household. Our cat Arabesque was very free. We lived in the country so she would stay home during the day but would spend the nights roaming out. It took some hard work for me to get my parents to go see little Dartagnan, but he was just too adorable and I won my battle. We brought Dartagnan home.

He fit right in. He was not one of those shy cats who goes and hides behind a piece of furniture the first few days. He made himself home right away. We were surprised to see his confident demeanor while snooping around the house. You would have thought he had always lived there. He also worked really hard to win the heart of Arabesque. She had a major attitude, but he would go lay next to her and roll onto his back, showy his fuzzy little stomach, try to touch her with his paws, as if to ask to be looked at and meow endearingly. She tolerated him little by little, but never really became his friend. Arabesque I think might have been a direct descendant of pure breed Chartreux , she had such a royal bearing with her gray/blue coat…

In spite of Arabesque not liking him so well, Dartagnan was loved by everyone else because he was absolutely not afraid of humans, very cuddly and expressive. When we got him, he had little ear problems and I had to clean him up. Well, if you’ve tried to do such things to a cat, you know you need gloves; sturdy, leather gloves. Not so with him. While he was annoyed with me, he never scratched me or bit me.
Once, I found out that he was being fed by our neighbor. I was very upset, I felt like she was trying to steal him away. In spite of being only 13 years old at the time, I went to my neighbor’s house and lectured her about feeding my cat. My mom to this day says she was taken aback by how I lectured a grown woman.

Dartagnan use to run my brother’s Lego collection all over the house which was really annoying for Thomas. All the little parts would slide so well across our tiled house. He also clawed up the wall paper in the stair case. That was his biggest flaw in my parent’s eyes. But trying to discipline him was setting yourself up for failure. He would just look at you, clearly showing that he did not have the slightest idea what you problem was and basically walk out. If you happened to grab him and throw him outside like my dad would always do, upon landing, he would just stay there; hair slightly ruffled looking rather annoyed.

Dartagnan was a tough little cookie; he spent his nights roaming and often got into fights, even after being neutered. Once, he did not come back in the mornings as he used to. We started getting worried. You see, people hunt in the area and there is a fair number of what is called braconniers (poachers who mostly use traps). Our cat Arabesque once did not come back for several consecutive days. We started thinking that she had been hit by a car or killed by a hunter. However, one night she dragged herself back home with a limp paw. It looked fairly benign but she seemed in a lot of pain. The next morning my mother took her to the vet and he explained that she looked very much as if she had been caught by a trap. The poacher probably finally released her. But the wound was very deep and infected. The vet told my mother he would have to amputate her and my mother could just not bear the thought of it. So she had her put to sleep.
It was very, very sad, and this is how Dartagnan became our only cat.
So when he himself did not come back, I became very worried. The day went by and still no Darta. When dusk took over, I decided to go look for him. I called his name and walked around the neighborhood when suddenly, I heard a painful meow… I went back home and told my mom who said it could have been any cat. But I knew it was Dartagnan. So I went back and somehow, we found each other. He looked fine but was not walking properly. The next day, the vet told us that he had probably been hit by a car and that the impact had broken some bones in his pelvis. I was glad he was alive. He was fine with some time and pain killers. But if we happened to be around him when he would need to go to the bathroom, he would look at us with imploring eyes and meow. That always made me so sad.

Dartagnan had a gift to go sneak underneath my pink bed throw without making a wrinkle and sleep there. It was just amazing, I have no idea how he did that but the only giveaway was a round shape in the middle of the bed, which often, I did not see. I sat or laid on him numerous times.

Darta was also a hunter. When he was little, he would try to get our gold fishes in their bowl, but his paws were just too short. Later though, he started hunting mice, birds, baby rabbits etc… This was the one thing Dartagnan and I disagreed on. While I admired his stealth, claws and fangs, I resented his killing animals. He once came back home with a live bird in his mouth, chirping, trying to escape. I called Dartagnan to me, and, being the trusting cat he was, he came right away. I then proceeded to save the bird from his deadly jaws… And ran away. Dartagnan gave a very surprised and annoyed meow and I am sure swore to himself he would never trust me again. I tried to save the bird, but it died anyway. I probably just lengthened its suffering when I think of it…

Dartagnan was also there when I had my first kiss. Right in my arms as a matter of fact. This blog is in English so my parents can’t read…
Nicolas and I were in the cellar talking, not daring to do the inevitable. Dartagnan happened to come in from the outside though the little side window and got down in my direction. I grabbed him and held him in my arms. I looked at Nicolas and told him that this cat was the only one who loved me (ah, teenagers…) Nicolas asked me if I was willing to bet and the next thing I knew, we were kissing. I could have sworn my parents would be able to tell just by looking at me what had happened, but it was not the case, this remained was my and Dartagnan’s secret. Nicolas was murdered almost 10 years ago, I am not sure why, but knowing that Darta had been there for that first kiss made the whole thing less surreal.
I even once said that Dartagnan would be my dream mate if he were a man. My dad almost chocked himself laughing when he heard me say this, because poor Darta had already been neutered.

I have so many stories about my cat. This blog entry could go on for a long time.
Dartagnan contracted feline AIDS a few years ago. He went through a rough patch where he lost a lot of weight along with some his beautiful luster, but he came back on top of it and recovered well.

However, 2 weeks ago, he started acting completely listless, refusing to eat; he also stopped seeking human attention and cuddles, which is absolutely unlike him. My mother said he started doing really odd things like drinking water in which she had poured detergent. He seemed utterly uninterested in living. She took him to the vet who gave a poor prognosis and she decided to have him put to sleep. I know it broke her heart. It sure broke mine.
I loved Dartagnan so much. I have come to realize that pets are like people. Some of them have personalities that click with ours better than others. And, while Darta stayed with my parents and I went away, he always remained my cat. My soul mate cat.
I feel quite crushed that he is gone now, that his little fighsty, sometimes haughty but always loving little feline spirit has gone on.

We have this family joke: my dad would always say “the cat wants to go out” at the most random times. Dartagnan would be sleeping on a chair and my dad would just say “Helene, open the window, the cat wants to go out”. That made my mom laugh while I would ask how he could say such a thing. I missed the joke for quite a few years.

But Dartagnan has gone for good now.

Aurevoir le chat!