To the toughest cat ever to grace god's earth
Teddy was an AMAZING cat. Think about it for a minute. What other cat do you know that could have endured 12 years of Aaron abuse? Does anyone else remember the 10 year span where Aaron's arms would be covered in scratches? Seriously, Chico would have thrown up his paws and eaten rat poison after a week.
At about age 3, Ted-man took to the streets. Screw that, he took over the streets. There wasn't a safe animal in Highland Park during the late 1980's. I guarantee you that if you strip searched a squirrel around that time, you would've found a map with a big skull and crossbones at 942 Harvard Court. Soon, we were off to Highmoor, but little changed. The kitten had become a grizzled veteran. He alternated hunting for food or sport. Seven days a week, you would leave the house for work or school only to see Chef Teddy's daily special staring at you from the Welcome mat. At first it was a mouse or a mole. But soon Ted's appetite for destruction grew larger. Rabbit populations dwindled, but still the rampage escalated. I remember one night catching Ted in a fight with a raccoon. The raccoon was balling from a tree branch, and our sweet little house cat quietly sat at the tree's trunk, waiting. Towards the end, I heard that deer were avoiding our house.
Beyond the hellcat personality, though, was the sweetest, quirkiest little guy you ever knew. How many times did you come home at night only to see your headlights reflect off two emerald eyes on the front doorstep? You'd walk inside only to get machine-gunned with meows. After Ted had emptied a couple of clips, you would give in.
"Obviously this cat is malnourished," you would say to yourself. "He must be desperate for food."
Then you'd walk into the mud room only to see that the same cat that would eat worm ridden field mice was just a little too prissy to eat 10 minute old whiskas.
"MMMEEEOOW", Ted would say. "FIX THIS SHIT!"
So you'd stir it up, and then put it back. Ted would give it the one-sniff check, and then shoot you a look that said nothing less than, "You son of a bitch. Just WHO do you think you're kidding?"
And then you gave in. It wasn't worth fighting this cat with an iron will. Better just to cut your losses early, open a new can of food, and work overtime that week to cover the costs.
It wasn't just the food though. How about trying to sleep in the same bed with Ted? You'd be lying there, minding your own business before you fell asleep, when the furry ninja would silently hop onto your bed. Then he would walk around for a second, triangulate his position, and strategically lie down EXACTLY where it would make you most uncomfortable. So you'd sit there, waiting for him to fall asleep, trying to humor this cat for at least a minute or two. And of course, eventually, you would have to move. And as soon as you slid your leg up to try to get around him, the little bastard would swipe your leg. As in, "How DARE you awaken the lion king from his deep slumber?"
Remember...
...when we brought Ivey home and Ted hissed enough to become an honorary snake?
...at the apartment in Lake Forest when Ted decided to swipe my butt as I tried to get into bed?
...when you would catch Ted a little unexpectedly and he'd look at you with his tongue hanging out?
...when our indian neighbors on highmoor called the cops because Ted was hanging out on their back porch?
...how many people it took at the vet's office to clip Ted's toenails?
...Ted eating the Christmas tree when we first brought him home?
...when you would be petting him for awhile, and you'd overdo it by one stroke, and he'd bite you? Then he'd close his eyes and wait for you to smack him, like he knew he deserved it?
At about age 3, Ted-man took to the streets. Screw that, he took over the streets. There wasn't a safe animal in Highland Park during the late 1980's. I guarantee you that if you strip searched a squirrel around that time, you would've found a map with a big skull and crossbones at 942 Harvard Court. Soon, we were off to Highmoor, but little changed. The kitten had become a grizzled veteran. He alternated hunting for food or sport. Seven days a week, you would leave the house for work or school only to see Chef Teddy's daily special staring at you from the Welcome mat. At first it was a mouse or a mole. But soon Ted's appetite for destruction grew larger. Rabbit populations dwindled, but still the rampage escalated. I remember one night catching Ted in a fight with a raccoon. The raccoon was balling from a tree branch, and our sweet little house cat quietly sat at the tree's trunk, waiting. Towards the end, I heard that deer were avoiding our house.
Beyond the hellcat personality, though, was the sweetest, quirkiest little guy you ever knew. How many times did you come home at night only to see your headlights reflect off two emerald eyes on the front doorstep? You'd walk inside only to get machine-gunned with meows. After Ted had emptied a couple of clips, you would give in.
"Obviously this cat is malnourished," you would say to yourself. "He must be desperate for food."
Then you'd walk into the mud room only to see that the same cat that would eat worm ridden field mice was just a little too prissy to eat 10 minute old whiskas.
"MMMEEEOOW", Ted would say. "FIX THIS SHIT!"
So you'd stir it up, and then put it back. Ted would give it the one-sniff check, and then shoot you a look that said nothing less than, "You son of a bitch. Just WHO do you think you're kidding?"
And then you gave in. It wasn't worth fighting this cat with an iron will. Better just to cut your losses early, open a new can of food, and work overtime that week to cover the costs.
It wasn't just the food though. How about trying to sleep in the same bed with Ted? You'd be lying there, minding your own business before you fell asleep, when the furry ninja would silently hop onto your bed. Then he would walk around for a second, triangulate his position, and strategically lie down EXACTLY where it would make you most uncomfortable. So you'd sit there, waiting for him to fall asleep, trying to humor this cat for at least a minute or two. And of course, eventually, you would have to move. And as soon as you slid your leg up to try to get around him, the little bastard would swipe your leg. As in, "How DARE you awaken the lion king from his deep slumber?"
Remember...
...when we brought Ivey home and Ted hissed enough to become an honorary snake?
...at the apartment in Lake Forest when Ted decided to swipe my butt as I tried to get into bed?
...when you would catch Ted a little unexpectedly and he'd look at you with his tongue hanging out?
...when our indian neighbors on highmoor called the cops because Ted was hanging out on their back porch?
...how many people it took at the vet's office to clip Ted's toenails?
...Ted eating the Christmas tree when we first brought him home?
...when you would be petting him for awhile, and you'd overdo it by one stroke, and he'd bite you? Then he'd close his eyes and wait for you to smack him, like he knew he deserved it?
...the scratching post that doubled as the sliding door to our deck?
...When Ted would hide under the dinner table, and ambush your feet as you walked from your bedroom to the kitchen?
Ted retired in Austin, Texas around the turn of the millennium. He aged not-so-gracefully, as many cats do. Yet even at 19 years of age he was still unequivocally Ted. I can't express to you all how sorry I am for the way Ted was treated towards the end. He just deserved better, and that's all I'll ever say about it. As I said, he truly was an amazing cat. He survived two car accidents, a bazillion fights, about 5 tapeworms, 6 moves, and oh yeah, AARON!
Ted, you were the best cat we ever could have hoped for.
...When Ted would hide under the dinner table, and ambush your feet as you walked from your bedroom to the kitchen?
Ted retired in Austin, Texas around the turn of the millennium. He aged not-so-gracefully, as many cats do. Yet even at 19 years of age he was still unequivocally Ted. I can't express to you all how sorry I am for the way Ted was treated towards the end. He just deserved better, and that's all I'll ever say about it. As I said, he truly was an amazing cat. He survived two car accidents, a bazillion fights, about 5 tapeworms, 6 moves, and oh yeah, AARON!
Ted, you were the best cat we ever could have hoped for.
I miss you already, and I will never ever forget you. 
Teddy "Tickle" Lee
1985 - 2004
posted by Z at 8:58 PM
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