In the blink of an eye...

Note: I just wanted to thank everyone for the wonderful response to my first story about Casey. A lot of you also wanted to know more about him and what happened to him. The following is an article that I wrote after he passed away in September that will answer some of those questions a little. While this story is not as funny as the one about his first bath, I hope you will enjoy learning a little more about my little pal. Thanks for reading.

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I will remember you,
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by,
Weep not for the memories,
Remember the good times that we had.

"I will remember you" by Sarah McLachlan

It seems like he was with me forever, but then, in what seems like the blink of an eye, he was gone.

For 14 years, since he came into my life in Charlotte, North Carolina, Casey, an orange tabby cat, had been by my side.

He was my little buddy, my best friend, and my loyal and constant companion through all those years.

He never complained. He never whined. He always had a twinkle and hint of mischievousness in his eyes. Those bright yellow and green eyes that would open as wide as saucers whenever he heard me say the name of his favorite treat -- turkey, or whenever he heard me rattle the ice cubes in the tray in the freezer, another of his favorite things.

Two weeks ago he was diagnosed with bone cancer and last Wednesday, September 11, 2002, I had to put him to sleep.

14 years -- they went by so fast...

Casey came by his name on the day I got him on July 28, 1988. The women who gave him to me wouldn't let me leave until I gave him a name. Coincidentally, before I had driven over to pick him up, I received my Sports Illustrated, which had a cover story that week on the 25th anniversary of Casey Stengel and the story of "Casey at the Bat."

As I was trying to think of a name for the little ball of orange fur wriggling around in my lap that day, that SI story popped into my head and thus, Casey, became his name.

For 14 years, he woke me every morning by licking my chin with his little "sandpaper" tongue (I received many of those tongue baths over the years), and he was there each night as I would get ready to go to sleep.

So many weekends we spent together watching sports on TV. There were so many lazy autumn Saturday and Sunday afternoons, with the glow of the setting sun coming through the window, when we would lounge around -- me on the couch, Casey on the rocking chair -- and watch football. Then there was our final week together when we watched one of the best U.S. Opens in history, which culminated with Pete Sampras' amazing victory. The two of us became the ultimate sports-watching "team."

There are so many other memories...

One of the fun ones was watching my dad and Casey "fight" over the rocking chair. Casey, or "bright eyes" as my dad nicknamed him, always loved to sleep on my living room rocking chair. Of course, when my dad came to visit, the rocker was where he'd want to sit. So dad would sit down and Casey, who had "the rights" to the chair, would do everything he could to get on the chair. Eventually, dad would go to the kitchen or something, and by the time he'd get back, Casey would be curled up and half asleep in his favorite spot. Dad, well, he didn't have the heart to move him, so he'd go sit somewhere else.

Chalk one up for Casey's persistence.

Over the years, one of the greatest things I found about Casey was that he was a great travelling companion. While he hated to be in "his box," he loved to travel. He would lie quietly in his box, which I always propped up on the front seat, and he'd sleep or watch the cars and trucks go by. When we would travel at night, he loved to watch the lights blink and shine on the dashboard and radio, or watch as the lights from the big 18-wheelers passed by the driver-side window.

With the 20 moves we made together because of my work since 1989, he probably saw more of the United States than most people in this country.

I think my three all-time favorite memories of our time together comes from our road trips.

The first was when he was still a kitten and we were making a move from North Carolina back home to South Florida. We were driving through the night and around 3:00 a.m. I finally had to pull into a rest stop to get some sleep. I parked the car, cracked the windows to let the cool night air in, reclined the seat a bit, cracked open the door to his box, and fell asleep.

When I woke up a couple hours later, I found him lying on my chest, curled up in the crook of my neck, looking out the window. We just stayed that way for a while and enjoyed the cool morning air blowing in the window until it was time to hit the road once again.

My second favorite memory was a year or so later on a move from Atlanta, Georgia back home to South Florida. Each time I would stop for a short break, I would open the door to his box in case he wanted to get out and stretch his legs. In all of our trips together, if he did come out, he'd only move around the front. This time, he decided to go explore the very packed back end of my S-10 Blazer.

After about 10 minutes, I was ready to get going again. I called for him and heard a noise from the far back reaches of the truck. How he got back there between all of the boxes and things, I never could figure out. I started the truck and heard a very loud bang, clang, and then "meeooowwww." Then, a few seconds later, his little head popped up over the front seat. He climbed over it, put his front paws out in front of him and slid down the seat face, then quickly climbed into his box. He turned around, laid down, then looked out at me and meeoowwed again, as if to say -- "ok, you can go now."

My final favorite travel memory happened a few years ago when we made our ultimate trip together -- cross country -- on the way home from a job I had in California. Six days, five hotels, over 3,000 miles, and he seemed to love every minute of it.

During the day, he just laid there in his box and slept or watched as the entire country went by the window. At night, he'd explore the hotel room and then go back to sleep in his box. It was a very enjoyable trip -- our last major one together.

Hotels were always a lot of fun too. He loved to explore new hotel rooms and would somehow, always, find his way to the window and sit on the sill and watch his new world go by. You do not know how many times I'd be in the room, he'd be behind the curtain sitting on the windowsill and I'd hear from outside, usually a child, say -- "Mommy, look at the kitty cat."

While I knew he was a loyal friend, I never knew how loyal until I had eye surgery a few years ago. For the entire two weeks while I had to lay in bed, he never left my side except to get something to eat. He was always there every time I woke up, either sleeping or just watching me. And every once in a while, if I slept a little too long, he'd lick my chin just to let me know he was still there.

It was after that week that I made a promise to him, and to myself, that when his time came, I would be there for him as well -- and I did.

After he was diagnosed with cancer, we spent five perfect days together. Being a Roman Catholic myself, I had him blessed by a priest at a local church. Afterwards, it was such a gorgeous morning, I let him walk around in the tall grass on the field out behind the church, something he had never done before. He really seemed to enjoy that, playing around and eating some grass.

Every morning those last few days, he would be "the old Casey," alert and energetic. But as each day continued, he'd start to slow down and sleep more and more.

He also got to have every one of his favorite treats and foods any time he wanted -- corn on the cob, some steak from a Philly cheese steak, ice cubes galore, and of course, turkey, turkey, and more turkey.

Finally, sadly, I knew it was time, and so we made the 4-1/2 hour journey to see Dr. Hugo, the best veterinarian in South Florida, and the doctor who had taken care of him the most during his lifetime. He was the one person, I knew, who would take care of him the best at this time -- and he did.

As always, Casey was the perfect travelling companion, sleeping quietly next to me in his box as the miles melted away behind us as we drove down the highway in the darkness of night. Every once in a while I'd reach into his box and pet his soft fur and feel him nuzzle my hand. It was as if he knew this would be our final road trip together.

When Casey finally slid into his final sleep, I can't explain it, but a wondrous look of peacefulness came over him and I just knew, at that moment, he would be ok where he was going.

We came a long way and shared a lot of great times together, Casey and I, and I hope he enjoyed his time with me as much as I enjoyed my time with him.

Till be meet again, rest in peace my little buddy. I will always remember you.

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Casey – May 1, 1988 – September 11, 2002