On July 3, 2002 two little kittens became members of my family.
One was a Red Persian male and the other was a Blue-point
Persian/Himalayan female. The very first night he came home, my oldest
and youngest sons, Ken and Don, came over to meet them and play with
them. The little Red Persian was scared and trying to hide from
everyone. But when Ken and Don began playing ball with him, he
enthusiastically joined in and when the ball was thrown higher and
higher, he would jump higher and higher and hit the ball as if he were
playing volleyball. He was having a blast, but soon his little tongue
would be out while panting in exhaustion, only to get right back to the
game as soon as he caught his breath. As Ken, Don and I pondered what to
name him, we wanted to call him something related to his volleyball
skills. Donny thought of the brand name that was on all the volleyballs
in high school, Tachikara. We chose that for his name and called him
“Tochi.” By the way, Tochi never played that game with us ever again.
Later that night, I brought the kitties to my room and closed the door so they would not get lost in the rest of the house. I put them on my bed so they could be near me for comfort. However, I woke up in the middle of the night to hear a tiny kitten voice crying pathetically. I jumped up, turned on the light and started searching. Following the noise, I found a crying, shivering Tochi hiding in the back of the closet. I picked him up, laid him on my chest and put the blanket over his trembling body. He quickly relaxed, stopped crying and soon stopped shivering and fell asleep. He stayed right there the rest of the night. For most of the rest of his life, my bed was his bed of choice. His favorite spot as an adult cat was near my head on the side that my face was. If I turned over, he would get up and walk over me to lie down near my face.
His flat, Persian-type face often made him look like a tough mean cat, but he was anything but. Tochi was one of the gentlest cats I’ve known. All he wanted was to be with “his” people. Don and Ken moved into my apartment a couple years after I got him. He demanded that each of us “talk” to him whenever we walked in the door. The routine was that when one of us came in the house, he would say “meow” and we would say “meow” back and so on. Now if we thought he was done and didn’t return a “meow,” he would come back with a more insistent meow, and if that didn’t work, an even more insistent meow, until we responded. Usually about 10 minutes of conversation was required to satisfy him. This need for conversation increased over time and he often would just decide to talk while we were watching TV. We would get impatient with him and at times, he would become so insistent that his loud meows would interrupt the show and we would have to pause until he was done. After that he liked to sit near one of us. He wasn’t so much a lap cat as he was a “sit next to you” cat.
Over the years, Tochi developed quite a repertoire of meows. Besides his “I want to talk” meow, and his “I’m not done talking” meow, he also had a rusty-sounding meow, a yelping “I’m in pain” meow, a whisper meow, and a completely silent meow. The last two types were usually when one of us would try to initiate the conversation and he was feeling a bit too lazy and responded dutifully, but quite unenthusiastically.
Tochi was not without the typical cat shenanigans. He had a habit of knocking things off the counter. Not everything and not things I normally kept on the counter, but if I left a small item out, he would consider that fair game for batting it closer and closer to the edge until it fell off. He insisted in getting his paws in the way when I was using the sewing machine and also loved to bite the thread until it broke. One time he got into the fireplace and turned himself into a black Persian. He also had a penchant for tormenting another cat that I acquired a couple months after him, another female Persian/Himalayan named Joavi (Joe-ah-vee). He would chase her around and attack her while she would hiss and fight back. Mostly these were short-lived fights, but sometimes I had to break them up.
It was either one of these fights or perhaps even an accident that resulted in Tochi acquiring a large gash on the end of his tail. I taped it up with antibacterial ointment, but he kept ripping off the bandage. Around that time, the boys and I went away for the weekend. We had a friend check on Tochi to make sure the bandage stayed on. However, upon our arrival home, we discovered spots of blood all over the floors, including the carpets. Upon finding Tochi, we discovered that he had not only torn off the bandage, but also chewed off the end of his tail, leaving just the bare bone sticking out. The vet had to remove about an inch and a half off the end of his tail
Tochi was purchased as a purebred tom with breeding rights along with the two females, Echo and Joavi. He produced one litter from each until it was discovered he had developed a heart murmur, which in Persians, can be deadly for the offspring. And indeed it was. Of the 11 kittens he produced, three died shortly after birth (unknown reasons). I do not know the fate of the 7 that were sold, but I did keep one kitten, the product of Tochi and Joavi. She was a beautiful Flame-point Persian/Himalayan and one of the sweetest kittens I have ever known. I named her Camellia Flame and called her “Cami.” She was with us for less than four years due to a genetic heart condition which was much more severe in her than in her father, Tochi.
It was this sweet, normally non-aggressive daughter that managed to turn the tables on Tochi’s penchant for tormenting Cami’s mother, Joavi. For some unknown reason, Cami one day decided that Tochi was not allowed off the window sill in my bedroom. Whenever she would catch him off, she would growl and chase him back. Cami was a much smaller cat and Tochi could easily have taken her on, but he did not and this stand-off lasted about two weeks.
Tochi remained a fairly healthy and active cat until February of this year when Don and Angie (who took over his care when I had to rent a place that wouldn’t allow me to bring my cats) noticed him peeing outside the litter box and losing weight. He was diagnosed with end-stage kidney failure and diabetes and given six months to live (with treatment). We chose to not treat considering the expense, his age and life expectancy. Up until about 3 weeks ago, he continued to be active and happy despite his continuing weight loss. But when he got down to 4 lbs (half of his normal weight) and his vomiting increased along with increased incontinence, we knew his condition was not going to get better and having him starve to death was not an option we wanted to consider. On Thanksgiving day our family gathered at Don and Angie’s house and everyone said their good-byes. He had become extremely lethargic by then and his hind legs could hardly hold him up. The light was gone from his eyes. On Monday, November 28, 2016, Don, Angie and I took him to The Cat Hospital where I felt him breathe his last breath. Tochi is survived by his human family including myself as official owner, his current caregivers, Don and Angie Nichols, Ken Nichols who spent many years living in the same home, and other family members who loved him including Jennifer Soboleski, her daughter, Daphne Novak, and son Justin Soboleski. He is also survived by his most recent cat family, Echo, his mate and lifelong companion, Emma and Kylo Ren, both females recently added to Don and Angie’s household.
Later that night, I brought the kitties to my room and closed the door so they would not get lost in the rest of the house. I put them on my bed so they could be near me for comfort. However, I woke up in the middle of the night to hear a tiny kitten voice crying pathetically. I jumped up, turned on the light and started searching. Following the noise, I found a crying, shivering Tochi hiding in the back of the closet. I picked him up, laid him on my chest and put the blanket over his trembling body. He quickly relaxed, stopped crying and soon stopped shivering and fell asleep. He stayed right there the rest of the night. For most of the rest of his life, my bed was his bed of choice. His favorite spot as an adult cat was near my head on the side that my face was. If I turned over, he would get up and walk over me to lie down near my face.
His flat, Persian-type face often made him look like a tough mean cat, but he was anything but. Tochi was one of the gentlest cats I’ve known. All he wanted was to be with “his” people. Don and Ken moved into my apartment a couple years after I got him. He demanded that each of us “talk” to him whenever we walked in the door. The routine was that when one of us came in the house, he would say “meow” and we would say “meow” back and so on. Now if we thought he was done and didn’t return a “meow,” he would come back with a more insistent meow, and if that didn’t work, an even more insistent meow, until we responded. Usually about 10 minutes of conversation was required to satisfy him. This need for conversation increased over time and he often would just decide to talk while we were watching TV. We would get impatient with him and at times, he would become so insistent that his loud meows would interrupt the show and we would have to pause until he was done. After that he liked to sit near one of us. He wasn’t so much a lap cat as he was a “sit next to you” cat.
Over the years, Tochi developed quite a repertoire of meows. Besides his “I want to talk” meow, and his “I’m not done talking” meow, he also had a rusty-sounding meow, a yelping “I’m in pain” meow, a whisper meow, and a completely silent meow. The last two types were usually when one of us would try to initiate the conversation and he was feeling a bit too lazy and responded dutifully, but quite unenthusiastically.
Tochi was not without the typical cat shenanigans. He had a habit of knocking things off the counter. Not everything and not things I normally kept on the counter, but if I left a small item out, he would consider that fair game for batting it closer and closer to the edge until it fell off. He insisted in getting his paws in the way when I was using the sewing machine and also loved to bite the thread until it broke. One time he got into the fireplace and turned himself into a black Persian. He also had a penchant for tormenting another cat that I acquired a couple months after him, another female Persian/Himalayan named Joavi (Joe-ah-vee). He would chase her around and attack her while she would hiss and fight back. Mostly these were short-lived fights, but sometimes I had to break them up.
It was either one of these fights or perhaps even an accident that resulted in Tochi acquiring a large gash on the end of his tail. I taped it up with antibacterial ointment, but he kept ripping off the bandage. Around that time, the boys and I went away for the weekend. We had a friend check on Tochi to make sure the bandage stayed on. However, upon our arrival home, we discovered spots of blood all over the floors, including the carpets. Upon finding Tochi, we discovered that he had not only torn off the bandage, but also chewed off the end of his tail, leaving just the bare bone sticking out. The vet had to remove about an inch and a half off the end of his tail
Tochi was purchased as a purebred tom with breeding rights along with the two females, Echo and Joavi. He produced one litter from each until it was discovered he had developed a heart murmur, which in Persians, can be deadly for the offspring. And indeed it was. Of the 11 kittens he produced, three died shortly after birth (unknown reasons). I do not know the fate of the 7 that were sold, but I did keep one kitten, the product of Tochi and Joavi. She was a beautiful Flame-point Persian/Himalayan and one of the sweetest kittens I have ever known. I named her Camellia Flame and called her “Cami.” She was with us for less than four years due to a genetic heart condition which was much more severe in her than in her father, Tochi.
It was this sweet, normally non-aggressive daughter that managed to turn the tables on Tochi’s penchant for tormenting Cami’s mother, Joavi. For some unknown reason, Cami one day decided that Tochi was not allowed off the window sill in my bedroom. Whenever she would catch him off, she would growl and chase him back. Cami was a much smaller cat and Tochi could easily have taken her on, but he did not and this stand-off lasted about two weeks.
Tochi remained a fairly healthy and active cat until February of this year when Don and Angie (who took over his care when I had to rent a place that wouldn’t allow me to bring my cats) noticed him peeing outside the litter box and losing weight. He was diagnosed with end-stage kidney failure and diabetes and given six months to live (with treatment). We chose to not treat considering the expense, his age and life expectancy. Up until about 3 weeks ago, he continued to be active and happy despite his continuing weight loss. But when he got down to 4 lbs (half of his normal weight) and his vomiting increased along with increased incontinence, we knew his condition was not going to get better and having him starve to death was not an option we wanted to consider. On Thanksgiving day our family gathered at Don and Angie’s house and everyone said their good-byes. He had become extremely lethargic by then and his hind legs could hardly hold him up. The light was gone from his eyes. On Monday, November 28, 2016, Don, Angie and I took him to The Cat Hospital where I felt him breathe his last breath. Tochi is survived by his human family including myself as official owner, his current caregivers, Don and Angie Nichols, Ken Nichols who spent many years living in the same home, and other family members who loved him including Jennifer Soboleski, her daughter, Daphne Novak, and son Justin Soboleski. He is also survived by his most recent cat family, Echo, his mate and lifelong companion, Emma and Kylo Ren, both females recently added to Don and Angie’s household.
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