Eulogy for a Friend

It dawned on me the other day that many future or potential readers may not know the story of Psycho Kitty. He was one of the most influential cats in my life to date, including the "Big Rhurford T. Kittencat, Jr".

If you didn't know Psyches or didn't have a chance to attend his wake, the transcript is below. Following the service, some of his favorite poetry was read aloud. RIP Gizmo "Psycho Kitty aka Psyches" Pearce - March 1998-December 2005.

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I want to thank all of you for attending the wake of our dearly departed friend, Psycho Kitty. Weep not, for Psyches would prefer a celebration of his life instead. Most of you did not know him like I did, so I will tell you about his life and the amazing things he did. He was born never knowing his father and his mother died shortly after his birth. As the Bolshevic Revolution reached it's apex in 1917, he was wisked away to an orphanage to avoid the bloody violence that fell upon Moscow. Malnourished and ignored, he dreamed of a better life.

There was a furious winter storm on the day he escaped from the hapless orphanage. He stowed away on a steamer headed for the New World. He ate mice and hid in the smallest nooks and crannies of the ship until he reached Ellis Island. He had no formal papers, so they detained him until he could prove worthy of entry into the USA. Fearing that his new life was no better than before, he escaped again and swam to freedom. He wound up in Manhattan and searched for work and a decent meal. He found odd jobs here and there for a pitance and usually slept in a dark alley. His life looked hopeless, but his spirit was strong. He honed his skills as a mouser and soon found steady work at the new factory in the Bronx.

Although Psyches was a young man, he rose quickly through the ranks. He went from sweeping floors to the accounting department in less than a year. He found problems with the bookkeeping that led to his promotion to assistant controller of the entire company. However, he longed for something more. He matriculated at Harvard in the early 1920's and became the first cat in his family to attend an Ivy League school. His dedication to higher education led him to recieve a Rhodes Scholarship. He thoroughly enjoyed his time spent at Oxford. He fancied staying in England and even spent a semester at Cambridge. However, he wanted to return to the US.

He returned home to a ticker tape parade and took his seat on Wall Street as an illustrious wizard of the stock market. Black Friday was extremely hard for most of his associates, but Psyches had an ace or two up his sleeve. Pysches left Wall Street with a suitcase full of money and a few ladycat friends. They settled in North Carolina and operated several speakeasy taverns. Prohibition was a profit making venture for him. Life was good and he was the cat's meow. He was sitting in the fabled catbird seat. While all of the liquor flowed freely from Canada at his clubs, the press had no idea about any of this. The University of North Carolina awarded him an honary doctorate and he sat (literally) on the Board of Directors of some up and coming corporations. The stipends and stock shares increased his portfolio even more.

When war was declared in 1941, Psyches was compelled to enlist in service to his newfound country. He entered the Army as an officer and was stationed overseas. Hidden on a farm in Northern Italy, he fooled the Germans in many ways. Not only did he send fake weather messages to the Nazi regime, he was soley responsible for killing over 100 birds carrying secret Axis messages. Psyches came home in 1945 as a decorated war veteran.

In the mid 50's, Pysches founded the NC State Veterinary School of Medicine. With a hefty donation from his own purse and the grants from others, his vision led to one of the best schools in the entire country for bovine and equestrian health sciences. He also took several trips to Africa to study the feline mysteries that still surround us today.

The turmoil of the sixties led to another of his visions. He realized that he would have to be the one that led a movement of epic proportion. He formed an organization now known as the NAACP ( National Association for the Advancement of Cat Professionals). He was the one that realized that many professional cats were being overlooked for jobs. He met with many cats that were overqualified for the work they endured. His organization put a stop to discrimination on a world wide level. Cats of varying skills were now being rewarded for their efforts. As a result, a cat food company used his likeness to endorse their cat food products. Although they called the spokesman "Morris", it was Psyches that did the pilot commercial. Now you know the rest of the story.

Skipping through the 70's and more modern times, Psyches was one of the leading campaign managers for Ronald Reagan. Not only was he a major part of the election as California's governorship, he also was victorious in the Presidential election of 1980. For his effort, Pysches sat on the Cabinet (literally) until 1988, when he retired to spend more time in his own Walden or Lake Wobegon. But he grew restless in his retirement. He yearned for the excitement of days gone by. He decided to adopt a family of his very own in 1998. I was the lucky recipient of his mentorship.

Psyches taught me how to think outside the box, inside the box and on top of the box. He taught me how to kill fish with one swipe into the aquarium. He taught me how to capture and torture birds that were evil and needed killing for the sake of society as a whole. He taught me how to hypnotize dogs into a blissfull slumber with a cold stare. He taught me the numerous delights of ham. He taught me many things. He laughed in the face of the Grim Reaper many times. As he aged, his retirement was apparent. He was strong and brave to the very end, but illness took him by suprise in just two weeks. Farewell my good friend. You will be missed and you will never be forgotten. I'll never forget the lessons you taught me during this journey we call life.

Before we go, here is some of Psyches most favorite poetry:

"For the study of majestic dignity, tinged on occasions with lofty disdain, interpreters of muscular expression would do well to seek out Psycho Kitty.

He walks the highway without haste or concern for his personal survival in the midst of tooting automobiles and charging dogs. When a strange dogs appears and mistakes Pyscho Kitty for an ordinary cat who may be chased for the sport of the thing, it is the custom of Psycho Kitty to slow his pace somewhat and stretch out in the path of the oncoming enemy, assuming the pose and the expression of the sphinx.

He is the graven image of repose and perfect muscular control. Only his slumbrous amber eyes burn unblinkingly, never leaving the enraged countenance of his enemy, who bears down upon him with exposed fangs and hackles erect. When the assault is too ferocious to be in good taste even among dogs, accompanied by hysterical yapping and snapping, Psycho Kitty has been known to yawn in the face of his assailant, quite deliberately and very politely, as a gentleman of good breeding might when bored by an excessive display of emotion.

Usually the dog mysteriously halts within a foot or so of those calm yellow eyes and describes a simi-circle within the range of those twin fires, filling the air with defiant taunts that gradually die away to foolish whimpering as he begins an undignified withdrawal, while Psycho Kitty winks solemnly and stares past his cowering foe into a mysterious space undesecrated by blustering dogs. "

...sampled from N. Margaret Campbell

...most people who condemn the cat for his apparent lack of devotion do so without giving a thought to what is required of them before they can qualify for it. A cat does not ask to be petted and treated indulgently. Indeed, to patronize a cat with superficial endearments is more likely to offend than gratify him.

A cat wants, first of all, to be understood. How can a cat respect a human being so senseless and inconsiderate as not to know when a door or window must be opened? Or when he wants to be intelligently admired or talked to?

Michael Joseph

...we have kinship with the cats. They are unhappy in the presence of dirt, bad smells, and corruption. Is it perhaps that we can see ourselves, condemned by misfortune to such a life where for sustenance we might have to nose through garbage pails and offal disposal? One is never so high that one cannot be brought low, and the stray produces for us a picture of the depths...

Paul Gallico

...As a companion puss is not without blemish. No one so thoroughly selfish as the cat can supply perfect companionship. For him the time, the place and the loved one have to be harmonized, and then, if he feels like it, he may condescend to honour you with his company. Yet the cat's attitude is clearly consistent. He does what pleases him. You may be sure when a cat sits purring contentedly on your knee that he is not doing it to please you. Realize this-and sooner or later all familiar with cats do realize it-and thus administer a salutary check to the vanity fostered in all of us by animal companions.

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