Humphrey Bartholomeow Melanson
My Little Buddy...

One late summer afternoon in 1997, while living in my apartment on Woodbine Ave, Sue (my then girlfriend and eventual wife) dropped by. She asked me to come out to the car to see the cat she had rescued.

The creature was beautiful and gentle but I was determined not to have that intrusion in my life. She had told me about him before hand. He had been hanging around her friends house for about a week. He was thin, dirty and looking a bit scared. He had obviously been turned out into the world and had no where to go. They eventually earned his trust and on that day, had managed to get hold of him. Sue brought him so I could "see him" before she took him to the humane society.

I wasn't thrilled about him going to the humane society. You see, in Toronto, the humane society is a no-kill shelter. However, after an animal has been there a week, it is handed over to the cities animal services department which has no such policy. I knew what his fate was as I stood there looking at him in the back seat of her car.

I tried to find an arugument, something that would cleanse my conscience and have her be on her way with him. "I don't have any cat food" I said foolishly. "I do" she replied. Ostensibly it was the food she had taken to her friends place to feed him with. I looked at her. I looked at him. He looked at me. We both looked at her. "I don't have a litter box" I said, already knowing the answer. Yes, a litter box AND litter was in her trunk....just in case...

I don't think I really had a choice in the matter. Okay, okay. I know I didn't have a choice in the matter. She knew coming there that there was no way I was going to be able to send him on to his fate at the humane society. Thats sort of how her and I wound up rescuing and living with 12 cats plus a room full of wildlife that was being rehabbed at any give time.

So we are sitting there in my apartment with him. We're sitting on the couch and he climbs up on the back and flops down, gangly legs hanging over the sides with his head resting there watching us. We were talking about what to name him. We started saying names and then just got silly. At one point I was thinking Humphrey Bogart so I said, "How about Humphrey".

"Meow" the cat said. We looked at him, looked at each other, looked back at him. "Humphrey?". "Meow". Sue took her turn, "Humphrey?". "Meow".

Thus it was, the cat had picked his own name. Aside from brief vacations away, Humphrey has been at my side for ten years. Yes, we've had our ups and downs. There have been occassions where I've chased him around the apartment at 2am because he wouldn't stop yowling. There has been more than once where I've been plodding to the bathroom and felt the sudden squishy sensation of hairball squishing up through my toes.

However, more importantly, there has been the unconditional love. Humphrey has never held a grudge. The times I would be mad and yell at him, swat him off the couch, lock him out of the bedroom because he wouldn't stop his incessant licking....he always forgave me. So many times I sat on the couch watching TV with him curled up in the crook of my arm. His gentle breathing soothing me even through I didn't realize he was doing it.

My mom once said of his peaceful way and his gentle manner, "He could make friends with the devil". And so it was. Humphrey was a healer. Whenever a person or animal was in his presence and healing was needed, Humphrey would be right there, with his soulful and gentle manner. Over the last few years, I have had more than a couple dark, lonely and hurtful days. On each one, Humphrey was there. Nuzzling against me, purring and leaning on me, sometimes just sitting near by and letting me know he was there when I needed him.

Over the last few months, Humphrey took to sleeping with me. He developed a habit of hoping up on the bed with me and stretching out along my right side. He would push gently against me and more often than not, his head would wind up curled into my armpit. Waking up with him there was something I have come to lookforward to. After the alarm clock went off, I would roll over and wrap both arms around him and lay my head on his. He would purr deeply and we would spend five minutes just exchanging those moments with each other.

I will now sleep without him, yet, he will still sleep every night with me. As I sit here, I can still feel him. I can still feel his presence. As the tears flow down my cheeks, I can still hear his soft murmuring purr and feel the way his soft gentle hair brushed against my skin. It has been a hard day and it's not even lunch time. I still have to face the rest of the day and still need to face going to bed tonight, without him laying there.

I miss you little buddy. I miss you a lot.

Sleep well.