How we came to know Tarquin

I hate that I'm starting my blog this way. The basics. Tarquin was a cat. But not just any cat. He started his life as a feral in a cat colony that inhabited our block in a section of old Naperville. What I hate is the fact that Tarquin died on Sunday, August 23, 2015. It was a beautiful day, not too warm, and with a beautiful blue sky. Yet he died. He started having difficulty breathing on Saturday. We spent that day at our regular vet and then at the emergency vet. Evidently it was a lymph node cancer. A node ruptured, and his lungs and abdomen filled with fluid and he couldn't breathe. The vets tried hard, but to no avail. At last he got to spend his last night at home with his people and his cat buddies.

Greta (right) and some of the kids

I also hate the fact that anything about Tarquin now has to be reported in the past tense. But while we're all very sad about Tarquin's demise, I want to focus on his good points, not his illness. We always referred to him as the Mensa Kitty. In spite of starting life as a feral, he knew he'd hit the jackpot. Wow, they feed me, give me a nice dry place to sleep, and all they ask in exchange is to pet me? I'm in.

Greta and the kids. In foreground is one we called Chance

Soon after we moved into our rental house, we started noticing cats galore. One neighbor lady fed them and explained that they were wild. I started feeding them, too, since they seemed to like to hang out on our deck a lot. 

One in particular was a solid black cat. She was slightly cross-eyed, which made her look fierce. And she was not too thrilled with humans and wanted to be left alone. We named her Greta (as in Greta Garbo, as in "I vant to be alone). She was a kitten machine (we had scads of little black, gray, and tuxedo kittens on our deck over the years).

In September of 2001, Lloyd called me all excited at the Humane Society, where I was volunteering, and said "Come home quick. I've caught the kittens and the mom." I petted my Humane Society charges quickly and returned home. He had the kittens and an older kitten--about 7 months old or so--in a dog cage we had curb shopped earlier. He put a bowl of food in the cage, they all traipsed in to get the food, and slam. He had them. He and my friend took them to Paws in Chicago where they were all all neutered and inoculated. We had a shed where they stayed and I worked at socializing them.

They were all pretty wild. I named them after Cubs players, so we had Sammy, Gracie, Rondelle, E.Y. (Eric Young), and Delino (who eventually became our Tarquin). Sammy and Rondelle hissed and swatted at me and the others glowered. But Mensa kitty Delino/Tarquin made eye contact and didn't seem scared of me, and then sniffed my finger and licked it.

Eventually a friend of a friend took 2 of the kittens, and they became Iowa farm cats. My friends took the other two, and they became spoiled little house cats (although I don't think they ever got as friendly and trusting as Tarquin).