Dylan

A Tribute to Dylan, our Amazing Flying Feline Dylan liked his soft green bed on the top shelf in the upstairs hallway. To get into it, he flew. He would first jump up more than three feet onto the five and a half inch ledge of a half-wall. Then he’d turn around, face the shelf, and commence a ritual of rocking back and forth while staring at his bed. We could almost see the analog computer in his head calculating the trajectory. Unpredictably, he would leap onto the top shelf which was three feet across the hallway and three feet eight inches higher than the ledge, making a perfect almost silent four-paw landing. When Dylan was 10 and accustomed to being our only pet, we shook up his world by bringing home a seven-year old female dog from the humane society. The dog, Misha, acted as if Dylan was invisible. Dylan, however, went into stealth mode creeping low as if he might pounce. To get past Misha, Dylan would maintain his straight-ahead stance, and go around the dog like the needle on a compass pointing to a magnet. Soon they both went about their business and the suspicious feline behavior ended. After several months, the Misha’s hair had grown, so we took her to a groomer for a bath and a haircut. Afterwards, she smelled like shampoo and had very short hair. When Misha entered the house, Dylan went back into the same “always stare straight at the dog” stealth-creeping mode. Within minutes it occurred to us that because Misha looked different and smelled different, Dylan must have thought “Oh no, first you bring one strange animal into the house, and now you bring another!” We laugh every time we tell this story. Dylan loved to engage in behavior we called “play tail.” His tail was constantly flopping back and forth, but if you placed your up-turned hand near it, he would flop his tail right into your hand. The game was to hold the tail gently but firmly enough that it couldn’t escape for two or three tugs. Then, if you opened your hand, the tail would fly out, and come back flopping noisily on both sides of your hand. After several more flops back and forth he’d again land it in the center of your hand, and the sequence would be repeated until the human tired of it. On sunny days Dylan loved to be outside and made his request by standing at the front door and meowing. We put him on a leash at the end of the front sidewalk, where we have a ten foot high bougainvillea. After he had enough sun, he’d crawl under the low-hanging branches, with only his nose sticking out. We characterized this as his “hiding in the jungle.” More than once we had to reach in and “urge” him to come out. Dylan, a straight-eared Scottish Fold tabby, was originally a show cat, but an accident that damaged one of his eyes exempted him from show consideration. He was beautiful, graceful, and peaceful, and oh how we miss him. Dylan, we wish you continued peace.