Meet Bijou: Laura's Story
Bijou, struttin’ her stuff, many moons ago.
Bijou was roughly my fifth cat in a succession of beloved cats. She was found in a rainstorm - a lone little howling kitten on the side of the highway in Las Cruces, brought back to dry off by my friend Ami to my apartment. I had just lost my favorite cat of all time. Bitty was gone. This tiny little black ball of fluff with sweet green eyes and a puzzled look came at the right time. I put her in my car to get approval from my boyfriend at the time and she took a giant shit on the floorboard to introduce herself. And that was it, we were all in love with her.
From the time I got Gi Gi until her final move to Albuquerque, I lived in no less than seven houses - all broken up by college semesters, roommates moving, nomad me - and from the first apartment she made it known that she was an outdoor cat. I came home from class one day to find she had pushed our third floor window open and dove down a brick wall. She jogged up casually to see me peering down below, and mewed... and I went and got her and we agreed, okay... she had daily business to attend to and we'd meet up each evening when I return.
It turned out no matter where I moved, she kept to her explorations, her introductions to neighbors (one would give her tuna and watch telenovelas; I found out months into my lease), and I would drive up from whatever I was doing and roll down the window, and she would jump in my car and head-bump me — big fluffy tail happy to see me.
She used to ride in my truck slumped across the passenger seat headrest. Once, when I was getting groceries out of the trunk of my car in a dark driveway she jumped in to scope out my purchases — and jumped out with the exception of the last inch of her tail as I shut the trunk on her. You do not want to hear the noise a cat makes when you change her tail to a question mark, and as I screamed and shakily released her with my key, we both earned that floppy tail story that day.
She forgave me. The thing about Bijou is she always forgave me.
I can't say I was a good mom. She knocked over my parent's Christmas tree about ten times too many when I brought her home once, and almost lost her to my mother's wrath. I loved her to pieces though and nursed her injured foot back to health after she tussled with her arch enemy — the big orange cat — on Boston street (the one that took a bite out of her ear). I kept her comfortable as she came home one night with a BB in her side. I bailed her out twice from jail for being caught by animal control — both times in my front yard — and when I walked in the first time and heard her voice, my innards broke into a puddle of heartache.
I got her a special morphine drip and petting session when she got the cone of shame for being spayed.
Gi Gi was the "Club Cat" when we lived down the street from the iconic Las Cruces bar. She would go hop on a stool and the bouncer once asked her for her ID. Then she'd high-tail it out of there when the crowds swelled.
She was not especially sweet and lovey to guests, but I always felt she had it down... independent, feisty, female warrior. She was legit. Took zero shit from ANYONE. Ruthless. I watched her single handedly take out an entire nest of baby birds, one by one, while the mother flopped hopelessly alongside the tree faking a broken wing. Bijou killed the mom last.
She could play "cat" though... when she wanted to. She loved being pushed around the carpet in a laundry basket. She loved sleeping in the crook of my leg at night. When I cried, she would come and just be there with me. She was my best girl. Ride or die.
We finally moved up to Albuquerque and she curled into a licorice ring next to my leg and slept on the 3 hour drive. I lost Bijou after six years, custody-wise, for a variety of reasons:
I couldn't adult
I was about to live 10+ more places before being considered a semi-normal person
Six of those places had dogs
To be honest, I think my boyfriend said he really couldn't stand living without her
She was very fortunate to move in with said boyfriend, who took the best care of her until the very end. I hadn't seen her in ages, and one summer night they invited me to say hello. I thought she'd surely forget me — but up onto a table jumped a fluff of black, flopping tail and inquisitive whiskers, and I picked her up and it was as if not a second had passed. She knew me and was happy to see me. I think that healed me more than a million things on that day.
Bijou went off for her last exploration in 2015. Like the guys that head up Everest and don't come home, she left to catch her final bird or fight her final battle. The ninth life, age 17.
So in honor of all the pets that make us happy, that take all that stress away, that give us stories and make us better people, ornery or not…
To Gi Gi. Thanks for being my friend.
Some of the most important parts of pet parenthood are our memories, moments, or celebrations together. It could be adopting a pet and starting a life together, or the heartbreak when you must say goodbye. You can share your story by drafting it yourself, or hit me up to interview you. Email monpetitchewchew@gmail.com and we can get started.