Thunderbob, The One and Only: October 13, 2003 - August 2, 2021

“What do you want for Christmas?” my ex and I asked my then 4-year-old stepdaughter. “A baby sister.” 

“How about a baby kitten instead?” 

“OK!” with big smiling eyes. 

And so, that is how Thunderbob came into my life some 17 and a half years ago. I’m fairly certain he is, and will always remain, the one and only Thunderbob – and that fits his personality just perfectly. His name, of course, came from the 4-year-old. She first wanted to name him Snow White, and a slightly less aware that “gender is a social construct” version of myself informed her that if she wanted to name him Snow White, that would be fine, but he was a boy and technically Snow White is a “girl’s name.” So she thought some more, and then suggested Thunderbob. I couldn’t help but laugh at that suggestion, which unintentionally hurt her feelings. “You don’t like Thunderbob?” she said with a sad look on her face. “No, sweetie. I love Thunderbob.” 

“Ok then. Thunderbob. Orrrrrr…Elvis.” (Again, laughter on my part. And again, the disappointed glance from the 4-year-old.) “These are all fine names,” I told her. “He is your cat. You can name him whatever you like.” 

“I like….Thunderbob.” And that was that. 

Thunderbob had an incredible, almost acrobatic, ability to squeeze
into spaces his body should not have been able to fit into, and he was thus the very best at hiding. Occasionally, I (or a very surprised friend) would find him in a kitchen cabinet, which was always a delightful little game! Generally, he was scared of most things and most people – including my stepdaughter – but he attached himself quickly to me, and to our then 3-year-old cat Neo. Neo wasn’t too sure what to make of this new family member,
but for the 16 years they spent together, Thunderbob never gave up on convincing him they were best friends, soul buddies, a bonded pair. His greatest quality was his loyalty. One time, Neo got out after a move to a new home, and Thunderbob never stopped meowing until Neo was found…For. Nine. Whole. Days. And nights. 

He only trusted a VERY few people/cats in his life, but if you were “in” his tight circle, there you remained for life. It took him approximately 7 years, and the death of his lifelong buddy Neo, to warm up to Ben. But once he did, Ben was in the “forever club.” There were even a few times in his final year that he chose to snuggle up on Ben’s lap even though I was sitting on the other end of the couch. We’re not sure if this was because somewhere in his heart he believed he needed exactly 2 comrades in his life at all times – and with Neo gone, it had to be Ben – or if he just finally decided Ben wasn’t a threat. Whatever the case, when we got a new kitten (thinking Thunderbob would like another cat companion), he never really made it into Thunder’s inner circle. You gotta give Leo credit for trying, though…for stalking, for chasing, for attempting to snuggle…but Thunderbob was set with just me and Ben. No room to really trust anyone else. Neo was gone. Who needs another cat? 

In his younger years, he had a couple of big adventures where he got out for several days in the forests of Washington, and I believe even had a brief relationship with a female cat who would lure him into the unknown, Siren that she was. But he always came back eventually. He was a stealthy hunter and killer of mice, so perhaps he could’ve made it on the streets. But I guess his loyalty to Neo wouldn’t let him stay out and play with the street cats for too long. 

 

Once he settled in and felt less of a drive for adventure, he loved to help me with my homework throughout my various seminary pursuits. He was a lover of liberation theologies, occasionally reading a little James Cone or lamenting over unjust doctrines in the UMC Book of Discipline. 

He was also a lover of good music. I think Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” was his favorite to just chill to, but he would also perk up or start tapping his tale over the last couple years anytime he heard Spencer LaJoye singing on a Facebook post or Zoom church. (It’s pretty cool that the last humans he allowed into his world were Spencer and their wife Whitney. In hindsight, I think it must’ve been a real “fan boy” moment for him that Spencer shared their pie with him.) And on some rare and special occasions, I could even get him to “sing” back to me if I sang a song directly to him. He was also quite a talker, and over the years we engaged in a number of not-so-deep conversations. As long as I would keep talking to him, he would keep talking back. His language was one of high-pitched, squirrely sounding noises, and though I was never quite sure I knew what he was trying to say, I was certain he had a lot of thoughts about a lot of things. 

He did seem to warm up to humans in his final months. Maybe he was tired of the COVID isolation too – or maybe his hearing was so bad, humans didn’t seem so noisy and scary anymore. I’d like to think he finally grew his soul enough to trust a little more; to believe in the good of people; to live out of love and not fear. Something we could all learn to do a little more of in this broken and polarized world…

Ray-Anna, that 4-year-old who gave him his unique and oh-so-fitting name, turned 22 just a few days after the sun set on Thunderbob’s life here with us. I suppose that means he had a good, long life for a little cat who was so scared of almost everything. When I told her of his passing, she reminded me of the time she visited just after her high school graduation, and how excited she was that Thunderbob came out and played with her. It had been a good 10 or so years since he’d done that… I think he wanted to show her how proud he was of her. 

In the last year or so, since Neo’s death and Leo’s introduction to the family, his life of fear began to catch up with him. He had major dental surgery last summer, followed by what appeared to be a near-death experience with high blood pressure. He also had a heart murmur and some other heart condition for which he needed daily medication along with his blood pressure meds. On top of that, he was diagnosed with kidney disease, and having walked that road with Neo, I knew there were no daily meds to cure that – just daily love to be given as long as we had him with us. 

But, even in his tiny, frail, 5.7 lb body, Thunderbob had one more great adventure left in him! About a month before he left us, the little rascal got out of the house on a stormy night when neighborhood kids were setting off fireworks. It could not have been a worse scenario for such a little scaredy cat. We didn’t discover him missing until he’d been out for several hours, and with the rain, it was difficult to search for him, though we tried our best. Giving up the search around midnight, we went to bed, and after a restless night, I woke up early and began searching the neighborhood. And this was Thunderbob’s last gift to us… You see, we moved into our home amid COVID restrictions, and really hadn’t had a chance to meet many of our neighbors. But that day, because of little Thunder, I met so many warm and compassionate neighbors who promised to keep an eye out for him. One of them even walked the neighborhood with me for a couple hours, helping me look in places I wouldn’t have thought of. We talked about our lives and the Great Mystery of life as we walked, and learned quite a bit about each other in the process. That neighbor has even attended our church several times since.

Thunderbob, The Evangelist – who knew? 

That evening, we saw our little guy slinking across a neighbor’s yard and were able to apprehend him fairly easily in another neighbor’s backyard. At the time, he seemed relatively unfazed from his Big Adventure – just a little dirty, SUPER hungry, and so tired he slept for 15 hours. But it soon became clear that something had shifted after that night. He seemed to be losing weight and began to get confused when he would walk from one room to the next. He would often wake us up in the night, “howling” at nothing, but would settle down with some reassurance from me. I noticed a couple weeks later that he was no longer jumping up on the bed with us at night. (He usually greeted us LOUDLY when we lay down, and would spend at least a few hours sleeping on my chest.) 

And so it was that I felt rather concerned about our little Thunderbob when we were preparing to leave for a week of vacation. I set him up with a posh pet hotel, in hopes that some space to himself, away from Leo’s stalking, would give him a chance to perk up a bit. But instead, the opposite happened. The day before we were scheduled to return home, I received a call that he wasn’t doing well. I so hoped he could make it until we got home the following night. But as fate would have it, his kidneys were failing, and it was time to let him go. My heart broke as I gave permission over the phone to the emergency vet to euthanize him. It was not what I had hoped for him. It was not what I had hoped for us. I wish I could have been there to give him one last snuggle and let him know how much joy his silly little soul had brought to my life for so many years. I worried that his last days and hours were spent in confusion, feeling as though we had abandoned him. Truth be told, I still worry that was the case. 

But that night, as we sat by the pool in St. Croix, a rainbow appeared across the Caribbean sky. And I thought about how much Thunderbob had missed his lifelong companion over the last year and a half. And I thought about how much his little body had been through over the last year. And I thought about how much Leo annoyed him. And I chose to cling to a belief that the world does not revolve around humans. That spirits are spirits, no matter what bodily form they may take. I chose to cling to a belief that somewhere, somehow, Thunderbob’s spirit found Neo’s that evening and – even if Neo’s spirit was a little annoyed at first to see him – they are together, pain free, enfolded into a Spirit that enlivens all of creation, far surpassing the understanding of mere human intellect or emotion. 

As for me, I have a new neighbor-friend because of Thunderbob’s last Big Adventure. But I have so much more... I have 17+ years of memories of a strange, but loyal, little scaredy cat who reminded me that it’s never too late to grow your own soul, step out of your comfort zones, allow new people into your heart – but definitely hold on to the ones who really matter! – and never stop seeking new adventures. 

Thanks, little Thunder. I hope your final days were as peaceful as a sunset on the Caribbean Sea, and that you’re singing your songs of freedom with Neo…

and Bob Marley.

"But my hand was made strong

By the hand of the Almighty
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly

Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
'Cause all I ever have
Redemption songs
Redemption songs"