It was a dark and stormy night—literally—in 1995 when I found myself in a car with my mother, headed to the SPCA. I was wearing my favorite dress, a pink and white tie-dye cotton dress. I wore that dress every chance I got. We braved the weather that night because there was a kitten waiting for me, a solid black male kitten who was old enough for me to take home. I was 6 years old, so my memory is a little foggy on details, but I remember sitting in the back seat next to one of those cardboard crates they use for adoptions, and he wouldn't stop meowing! It was thundering a lot but I couldn't pay attention because inside that little cardboard crate was someone who would change my life.
When we got home, the dogs (who were not much shorter than I was) were eager to sniff the box. Our other cat, Gypsy, was disinterested. She probably knew that this new kitten would be a daily annoyance to her well-established turf. My mom and I carried the crate back to her bathroom, where we opened it up so that Bentley could see his first glimpses of his new home.
He was so tiny! I remember sitting there in the small bathroom with the pale green tiles, terrified that he would claw my legs as he sat up on my lap. He was extremely curious. Right away we saw how interested he was in the shower, something that never changed. Even in his last days, he loved getting in the shower while it was running, and he, weirdly, loved to drink the water that gathered around the drain after it was turned off. Bentley also loved scooping the water out of the dogs' water bowls and playing with the water in the toilets. He was an absolute mess.
In a short time Annie was born and Bentley became her personal stylist. He loved to lick her head and he would swirl her hair up into the funniest little curly-cues. This was also the time when we discovered that any loose ribbons left out would be eaten by Bentley and appear later in the litter box. It was quite colorful...
I remember how every time we went on family trips he would love to climb into my suitcase while we were packing, and when we finally got home, he trotted to the door to meow loudly and demand we make up for all the attention he missed out on while we were gone.
He said good morning to me every day, and he laid with me for a few minutes every night before I went to sleep before he would leave and roam around the house in the dark during the night. In the early morning hours he would always find his way into my parents' room where he would snuggle with my mom, sometimes on her head.
Bentley never scratched or bit or hissed, unless he was playing with the other pets, or growling at the mailman. He only had love for us. He was the sweetest little cat anyone has ever known, and he was my first true love.
When my mom and I took him to the vet on Monday, March 5, 2012, it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but I also knew that it was the right thing for him. It would have been so easy to be selfish and keep him around longer for my benefit, but it would have caused him pain and shame and in the end, it would have caused more hurt than good for everyone. Being able to hold him close and tell him I love him, being able to let him feel loved and special every second of his life, was both the most painful thing and the greatest gift.
I'd always thought about his place in my life as a special place that no other animal or person can every occupy. But now I realize that it was my place in his life that was the greatest gift of all. I'll miss you forever, Bentley.
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