Not entirely sure who owned who.

In case you missed it, read “Part 1” here.

I was still shocked that I received what I wanted—a black boy cat with green eyes named Onyx. I asked for him a month ago, and a month-old kitten found me!  

The synchronistic moment should have been magical but was curtailed after he disappeared inside my car engine.

He was so small that he could fit into one hand. I was absolutely terrified that he might get hurt or even worse. Some fur mama I turned out to be. 

I have no idea what happened to him in his first moments of life, but I suspect it wasn’t good. Finding himself in an office parking lot triggered fear.

I was borderline tears and clueless about how to get him out. 

Fortunately, his Godfather, Fred, was there to save the day. Fred was tall with long limbs. He managed to reach down into the engine and fished out Onyx. Onyx gripped Fred for safety before he was placed in the carrier.  

On the drive home, Onyx didn’t make a single sound. I hoped he was okay. That he would take to me. That I could give him a life, I dreamed of. 

When I got home, Kahlua smelled Onyx through the box. She wagged her tail, curious to make a new friend. I brought the box to my room and closed the door. I slowly opened the box. Onyx looked up at me.

“Hi Onyx, I’m your new mom. This is your home,” I said. 

Onyx pounced Monster Energy style. He ran across the bed and dove over the edge. He explored the space before he disappeared under the bed.

I left him alone and attended to his food. Meanwhile, Kahlua was jonesing outside the door. She was dying to meet him.  

After Onyx warmed up to me, I welcomed Kahlua inside. Onyx ran to the corner of my bed. The day had already been eventful. Let alone encountering a new and substantially bigger animal! 

Kahlua whimpered. Just like me, she was taken by Onyx. Fortunately, Onyx bonded with her. Kahlua became a sort of Nana and looked after Onyx while I worked.  

Less than a month of being a new fur mama, I developed a strange bruise the size of a half-dollar on my right forearm.

I assumed I bumped it, even though I didn’t remember hitting anything. At work, I discovered that Fred had the same bruise—on his EAR! 

“What happened to your ear?” I asked. 

“Your cat did this,” he said.  

“How?” I asked.

“You don’t know?! Well, you might want to take him to the vet. This is RINGWORM!” 

“WHAT?!?!? Is that what this is?!?!?” I showed him my forearm.

“YEP! That’s ringworm,” Fred confirmed. “One of my daughters, and both our cats, got it.”

In addition to half of Fred’s family, Kahlua was in the same boat. It was so bad that Onyx had to be quarantined!

He lost most of his black fur coat. When the fur finally grew back, his pigmentation turned white and gray. I was slightly bitter that my “black cat” was no more. Fortunately, the new fur faded back to black. #amywinehouse

After the ringworm incident and a treacherous flea outbreak, things began to fall in place. 

Night after night, I rushed home to be with him. Right when I’d hit the door, he started meowing. Anxious to play and tell me all about his day. 

When I pet him, he always purred. He followed me from room to room and always wanted to be where I was.

Kahlua and I trained him. I taught him how to use the litter box and how to communicate when hungry.

She taught him how to wag his tail when he was happy, which was odd since that’s typically a sign when a cat is annoyed. Not Onyx.

Kahlua and I both demonstrated how to come when called. Something I quickly ingrained when he was a kitten.

Like Kahlua, he came when called. It wasn’t until he became a teenager when he realized he had the element of choice.

He slept by my side each night and even snored on the regular. Everything was going well except for one point of contention—the great outdoors.  

I strongly preferred an indoor cat, whereas Onyx felt he was an indoor/outdoor cat. Between large cats, raccoons, and coyotes, the matter was off the table. 

Whereas Onyx argued that he “came from the streets.” We fought a lot about this. Every day, twice a day, in fact. Once in the morning before work and once after I came home.

He was moody, particular and fiercely independent. He was definitely mine.

He was also consistent. After several attempts, he broke free in the backyard. I chased after him, but he got past the gate, crossed the alley, and ran in between my neighbors’ houses. Needless to say, I couldn’t reach him. 

It was dark a few hours later. I stood at the front door and wondered if Onyx was okay. If he would make it back. If I’d ever see him again.

I started beating myself up for not being more careful when opening and closing the back door. 

To my surprise, he appeared at the front door and meowed to come inside. I gave him an earful.

That little rebel ignored me and went to his dish. As he ate, I informed him this would be a one-time thing. And, he told me otherwise the next morning. 

After a week of him escaping and showing back up each night, I conceded.

At this point, he was fixed and fully grown. However, I drew a hard line. I wasn’t going to stand at the screen door waiting for him every night. If he wanted back in, then he needed to knock. Another trick I taught him.

He agreed…only because I wouldn’t let him in until he did so. While I hated him going outside, he was thrilled. He even left me a dead mouse on the doorstep to express his gratitude. Gross.

I later learned that he didn’t just go outside. He was part of a crew. His boys were Martini and Costello, two older cats who lived next door.

The three of them used to play and hang out on my neighbor’s porch. Watching. Judging. 

After the neighbors lost Martini to illness and Costello to a coyote, Onyx was devastated.

I tried to keep him inside once more, but he was adamant. He even became known in the neighborhood as “the black cat.” 

His black coat made him hard to spot at night by predators. I’ll never forget the moment I learned this firsthand.

It was late, and he still hadn’t come home yet. I went outside and called him. From a distance, I saw him weaving in and out of cars. 

“Onyx!” I screamed. “Get over here.” 

He perked up from underneath a car.  

“NOW!” I ordered.  

Onyx ran across the street and popped up onto the sidewalk…only, it wasn’t Onyx. It was a RACCOON! 

I screamed for dear life, ran inside, and slammed my door shut. Before I could take a breath, I realized that Onyx was STILL outside! 

I opened the door and saw the raccoon run across the street. Onyx, as in the REAL Onyx, ran down the alley. The only reason I knew it was him was because of the bell on his collar. Otherwise, he was near invisible in the darkness. 

“Get over here right NOW!” I yelled.

To my surprise, the raccoon didn’t see Onyx. However, Onyx saw the raccoon and started to run towards him!

“DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!” I ran into the street. 

Onyx yielded my warning. In turn, I listened to my optometrist and began wearing glasses at night. Apparently, I was a shoo-in for that Sears commercial. 

Years later, Onyx and I moved into a new home within the same complex, Pecan Place. Our new neighbors were a couple who owned a black poodle named Olive.

Olive and Onyx were small black boy animals whose names started with the letter O. Each a king in their respective house. 

My neighbors and I left our backdoors open so the animals could roam free. They were both too cool for one another but seemed to have an understanding.

Likely because Onyx was more like a dog and Olive was more like a cat.  

Olive liked to come in and jump on the couch—something Onyx was NOT allowed to do. This always irked Onyx.

Likely why Onyx always went next door to drink Olive's water. Sharing drove Olive nuts.

They drove each other crazy but kept one another young. They were also nice to one another when no one was looking.

Many years later, Onyx earned himself a few enemies, like Dexter. Dexter was a steel gray cat with bright green eyes.

The kind of cat who had a dozen homes in the neighborhood. Everyone knew Dexter. 

When Dexter introduced himself, Onyx didn’t take it too kindly. His tail got big and bushy.

He saw right through Dexter’s game and made it abundantly clear that this house was taken. 

Onyx growled through the screen door whenever Dexter stopped to say hello. I was happy to pet Dexter but never allowed him in. 

By the time Onyx hit double digits, he grew less and less interested in going outside.

Our fight went from fighting to stay inside to going outside, even for a few minutes. 

Onyx lost interest in the outdoors completely. His three speeds were eating, sleeping, and being held. No more. No less. 

Then on September 30, 2019, Onyx asked to go outside. I couldn’t believe he suddenly had an interest.

The only problem was he also lost the ability to use his two back legs and couldn’t walk. I rushed him to the vet. 

The vet called me after I got to work. She informed me that his condition was fatal. I was given two choices. Either perform surgery that may give him a week or two to live or let him go today.

I was speechless and needed to make a decision. 

Stay tuned for the final installment, “Requiem for Onyx Part 3: One Year Later”

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