This page was created on the tenth anniversary of Casey's coming into my life. Casey was a 15-pound calico cat and lived to be approximately 19 years old. She came to us by chance during the summer when I was 16. I had my first summer job, and I was allowed to keep her as long as I paid for her trips to the vet. She was a very healthy cat until her final weeks, when she apparently suffered kidney failure. She lived with my parents and outlived my first dog guide, Elli.
Thursday night when Dad was looking for PJ there was another cat on the porch. Friday when Mom and I got ready to go to work, it was in the garage. She came right up to us and meowed, so we fed her. It looks like someone spray-painted her tail yellow and her head blue. This cat, who my sister named Casey, has been in the garage ever since. Mom and Dad are going to let me keep her as long as she gets along with Brownie and PJ.
But Dad is dead serious about having nothing to do with her. "I could pay attention to the cat," he said, "if you could trade me something."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Are you sure you want to know?" Mom asked.
"You have to listen to ten ten-minute lectures."
"Okay," I said. "We'll ask you ten simple questions."
Casey's arrival created quite a stir for PJ, who was then our resident cat. But PJ rose to the challenge and adjusted, and I learned something in the process. The story is told in a devotional article I wrote, "Moving on".
I feel dumb writing a letter to my cat, but I do weird things anyway so who cares if I write you a letter?
I have been thinking about you a lot lately. I've been thinking about how it is so comfy to sleep on the couch with you on my chest. I have been thinking about how it is comforting when you purr and stick your little head up under my chin. Your little head does not seem to go with your big fat self, you know, but I think you are cute and sweet.
I have been remembering how you used to sleep in a box on the end of my bed when I first got you. I remember when you got a cold that Christmas and I had to leave you in the box in the garage with a towel over the box. You were still sleeping there when I came home from school.
You are one of the few things I remember during my junior year of high school. I suppose it must have been a sad year. I remember being on some planning panels for youth conventions at church. I remember starting to take voice lessons from a new teacher. Her name was Jennie Harpel, and she actually helped me a lot. I remember my birthday. Becky, Anna, Jinney, and Michelle came over for lunch. We had chicken and dumplings, and I sucked the helium out of a balloon. That was pretty funny.
A few months ago, I talked to Becky, one of those I mentioned above who attended my 17th birthday party. I mentioned Casey, and Becky gasped. "Casey!" Yes, Casey is still here.
Mom asked me one day how old she was when we got her. The vet estimated that she was about 4.
"And that was when you were 16...? So that makes her 18 now... She is never going to die!" Mom exclaimed.
Casey is in excellent health, especially for her age. I live in an apartment above my parents. She is not very enthusiastic about visiting me. Well, to tell the truth, she yowls and scratches at my door to go back home. So I go down there to visit.
I talk to Becky about once every week or two now. Our conversations always begin with me saying the same thing...
"We still have Casey."
Casey has outlived every other animal I have ever owned. I now live in Florida. Casey still lives with my parents--and she is still healthy.
Casey's favorite places to sleep are on the couch (she prefers the left end) and on someone's lap in the recliner. She doesn't like dogs but tolerates them. Actually, she is quite a scaredy cat. Another thing Casey likes to do is lie on her back in the middle of the floor. Casey's nicknames are Casers and Casey Wasey.
