Shortly after Carlie was born, Tater had just become extremely ragged looking. The other cats picked at her and she looked like she was on her last legs. I didn't want to put her to sleep, so I asked Mom and Dad if they'd take her home with them and let her live out her last years in peace.
After she went home with them she filled back out and perked up. She would love on them in the evenings. Tater's favorite think in the world has always been milk. And I swear she could ASK for it. She would stand in front of the ice box and demand "Meeeeeiillllk! Meeeeeiiilllllk!" until someone came and poured her some milk.
My parents went to China last summer. They got a high school boy to watch their animals while they were gone. And they warned this boy that Tater was very, very old (at least 18 years old) and that it might be possible she would die while they were gone.
When they got back from China, Mom called me up crying and said that Tater was "gone". I reply "What do you mean 'gone'? Did she die while you were away?" And she said that Tater had just disappeared. They have a doggy door that they'd left open, and they assumed she'd gone out the doggy door and had gone off somewhere to die.
I knew she was very old, but I cried. I'd had that cat my entire adult life. When I went back to visit Mom and Dad that next weekend, I looked out the kitchen window and cried again. I told my Dad that it really bothered me that we didn't know what had happened to her, and I just had the urge to go and look for her. At the same time I knew my parents had alreay looked and looked and looked for her.
Another week went by, and Granny woke up early one morning and there was that Dang cat sitting in front of the fridge and demanding "Milk!!!! Milk!!!!" Granny said the hair on the back of her neck stood up, she said she thought she was seeing a ghost! But it was Tater. All we can figure is that she'd wandered outside and had been staying with someone else for those two weeks.
My poor Dad, he said "Every day I came in from work, and I was afraid that cat would be dead. I worried and worried about her. Then she did 'die' and I got used to her being dead. Now she's back, and I'm back to worrying every day whether or not she's alive!!!"
Tater lived another six months or so. Still, she had gotten very frail, and we knew she wouldn't make it much longer. Even at the very end though...she literally only had one tooth left in her head....she managed to bite my Mom one last time and drew blood! And once again, she disappeared out the doggy door.....only this time she didn't come back. Rest in peace, Taternator....you gave me alot of good company.
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