Stinky, the Wonder Cat; everyone knows where he’s at, because he’s Stinky, the Wonder Cat!
That was Stinky’s theme song that he acquired some 23 years ago. In our household, everyone had a theme song – everyone. Whether it celebrated a personality trait, an action, or a spontaneously silly moment in time, a theme song would be born in an unexpected flash of fun or impish creativity and would live forever. CeCe and I would often sing one theme song or another whenever the recipient happened to be within earshot. It got to the point where they would recognize their given song and come running to see what fun was being had without them. It was the bat signal for an elite group of pets that we came to refer to lovingly in our home as our kids. On May 1st, 2025 at 10:20am ET, we lost our last child.
Stinky, the Wonder Cat is gone.
If you’ve gotten to this point in the story, I don’t have to explain the incredible bond we establish with our pets. There exists a connection of love and companionship that, like people, vary from one to the other. But regardless of how it’s manifested, it does so in ways that are truly life-affirming. These four-legged companions (or two-legged, in deference to those who have lifelong avian partners) come to us, well, pretty much like real children do. Some are planned; some, happy accidents. Stinky was the latter.
For years, he has been a stalwart companion, protector, a part-time therapist, and a full-time dispenser of love. Whenever CeCe or I would fall ill, be in pain, or even be sad while watching a film, Stinky would come to the rescue. He would walk right up to your face and stare, trying ever so carefully to get as close as he could. And then he would settle on your chest or shoulder and would not leave your side until he felt that you were OK.
He demonstrated such care for me when I was recovering from my heart attack. But he outdid himself with CeCe. When she was battling cancer, Stinky was incredibly caring and kind. He would stay at his post all through the day and night, only taking breaks to eat or go to the bathroom. When she passed away, Stinky wandered through the house for weeks, calling out to her with a mournful cry that broke my heart. But he dutifully settled in to take care of me, once again. He watched my every move, for he could sense the loss I felt. And so for the past twenty months, he chose to stay by my side whenever I was in the house, never leaving his post until this morning, when his body could no longer ignore the ravages of aging. Even then, he simply refused to let go. Like Horton the Elephant, Stinky had a made a sacred and unspoken promise to care for those whom he loved, and he never wavered.
I will miss him terribly. But I am consoled in knowing that he is, right now, running and jumping with all of his friends and his beloved mom. I have no doubt that on one of these nights when I am feeling the weight of loss more so than others, I will hear him purring nearby. And in my dreams, if I’m lucky, I may once again catch the strains of his theme song –
Stinky, the Wonder Cat; everyone knows where he’s at...
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