“Click, click…click, click…click, click.”

You always knew when Skittles, our sweet gimpy tiger kitty, entered a room. His back claws were long and a few of them could not retract all the way, and so he clicked wherever he walked. In addition to the sound, he walked with a staccato rhythm as well; it seems as a kitten he had an accident where he got hung up trying to jump over a baby gate, and it messed up his haunches to where he had a distinctive duck waddle for his back legs. Two quick clicks – “click, click” and a pause, followed by two more clicks as he waded through his daily life.

Skittles was quite a cat. His back-leg injury left his back half pulled-looking, so that although he was a normal weight (about nine pounds), his back half collapsed down to a narrow bony body that was difficult to pet since you could feel every bone in his spine. He had some hair missing around his lips and sometimes his chin, and his physical features in general were somewhat homely when considered individually. But, when you threw in his amazingly sweet temperament, all of his ugly-duckling features combined together in a magical way, making him adorably cute.

By nature shy, Skittles was, I think, reclusive because of his limited mobility. When we brought Skittles home with his father Linus back in May of 2017, we put them in our bedroom to begin the week-long socialization process with our existing kitties. While Linus went on to boldly roam the entire house, Skittles rarely left the safety of his bedroom. He would leave to use the littler box and to eat, but when he did, he added a low growl to his “click, click,” to alert the other cats that he was on the move.

And move he could, especially given his back legs. On the rare occasions I caught Skittles outside the bedroom, he would sprint back to his safe spot at a surprisingly quick pace. Skittles was also able to spring up on the bed, despite his legs. He spent much of his first year hunkered down on our bed.

Until it got cold. Then, Skittles discovered the wonder of the forced-air vent, and he loved that it spit out warm air. He would bundle his bony body beside the register, and would stay there for hours without moving. I felt bad for him sitting on the floor, so I gave him a blanket to sit on, one that he would turn out to be allergic to, causing him to lose his chin hair for months. I eventually figured it out and got him another blanket.

Meredith and I figured that when winter ended, Skittles would jump back on the bed again, but he never really did. He stayed by his trusty vent all through the summer – maybe he liked the air conditioning, or maybe it was his safe spot. Either way, we kept a blanket down for him all the time.

There was one time when Skittles would leave his favorite spot – bedtime. When I climbed into bed, Skittles would click his way over, jump up on the bed, and proceed to sit on my chest while I scratched his ears. He sometimes would settle down in my chest, often with his front claws on my throat, which would cause me to haul the blanket (and Skittles) down the bed and away from my larynx. He would stay as long I I kept petting him. When I stopped, he would either jump down, or go to the foot of the bed for a few minutes before going to get a drink.

How that cat loved water. We kept a bowl of water outside the bedroom for him so that he could get a drink without having to navigate stairs. When I would put fresh water in the dish, he would leave the heat to come get a drink, usually just as I was putting the bowl back down again. He would drink for a long time, and for some reason it was part if his nightly routine as well, after he jumped off the bed.

One of the most amazing things about Skittles is how much he loved me. Mer and I sleep in the downstairs guest bedroom on weekends because the room is darker than our bedroom, making it easier to sleep in. When I would go to bed, about three-quarters of the time, I would get settled and hear “click, click” coming down the stairs. The kitty who loved his heating register and who rarely left the bedroom somehow knew I was in bed, and he was coming down the stairs to get his bedtime loving. It was adorably sweet of him. He even did it once to my brother, Shannon, when Shannon was visiting one weekend; this from the cat who ran from everyone.

This last Labor Day weekend, Meredith and I went to visit a friend in Michigan, leaving on Saturday and returning on Monday. When we left on Saturday, all was well, and there was no indication that Skittles could be ill – he was lying on his trusty blanket as always, and had come up on the bed Friday night for bedtime love. When we got home Monday afternoon, Skittles was not under the bed or on his blanket, which was unusual, but probably meant he was in the basement using a litter box. The only indication of concern was there was some diarrhea next to his blanket. I went looking for him, and I found him lying dead next to a litter box. My guess is he must have had something sudden happen, like a heart attack, and he lost control of his bowels, but he still tried to get to his litter box. What a sweet kitty. He had passed away just one year after his father, Linus, had died, and only around twelve years old.

It is hard now to not see a blanket on the bedroom floor, or to hear “click, click” on the stairs, and when I go to bed, I really miss my sweet tiger kitty. He was an improbable mess of a cat – homely and cute, terrified and friendly, slow and quick, settled and roaming, and he clicked his claws all the way into my heart.