Pertinax

Adopted 29 August 2003 in Tulsa, OK – died 30 November 2020 in Fayetteville, AR 

Pertinax was a case of “unintended consequences.” I wouldn't have met him had Samantha Liner, then 14, not pointed out a black Shar Pei mix in my neighborhood dragging a long, thick chain, the trademark of dogs kept for fighting. For several days, before and after work, I followed the leads of neighbors responding to my pamphlet: “Small black dog, dragging heavy chain. Will not come. If seen, call 749-8902.” He relentlessly went on for days, being spotted all over the Woodward Park Addition and beyond, until with help from animal control officer Bob Whiteley, we trapped the dog --by then desperately hungry-- in a cul-de-sac abutting Maple Park. To this day I keep the enslaving chain as a reminder of why I loathe 87% of the human population. 

Proximity to home and the sterling reputation of Mark Shakelford DVM made me choose the 15th Street Veterinary Group to vet and neuter the young dog, just because due to his ice-cold demeanor, unknown history, and the unpredictability of Oriental breeds (and not just dogs) I would board him while at work -- no sense trusting him with 7 indoor cats, 3 dogs, and furniture. 

Every morning when I delivered the as-yet unnamed dog at the clinic there was a large cage in the reception; a kitten it’s only occupant. He was up for adoption sponsored by Animal Aid of Tulsa. 

Although the clinic was very busy at drop off and pick up times, not many customers seemed to pay attention to the kitten. ... Except two children who proceeded to rock the cage and yell at him while the parents did nothing. “Hey! Stop!” – my war cry in animal crises. To this the parents reacted, rushing to the rescue of their savage offspring. The staff were too busy to notice our brawling. 

Weeks passed until my friend Mikyung “Monica” Song expressed her desire to adopt “Mung-Mung” (meaning Bow Wow in Korean). I had no concern that she might eat him, as some in her country do, but an unsocialized dog and a first-time dog guardian wasn't a good match. But because his adoption appeal was limited, I agreed on condition of returning him to me if it didn't work out ... which surprisingly she never asked despite Mung-Mung's destructive nature which Monica bore with zen patience, until she moved to a house and he became a sad backyard dog. 

Boarding no longer necessary, I stopped seeing the Turkish-van coated cat. Until a couple of weeks later driving by the clinic at almost closing time I stopped. The kitten was still there. Why?! The vet tecs couldn’t understand it either, but he had reached the limit of Animal Aid sponsorship ... that evening he would be another unwanted cat incinerated. Like the average idiot I expressed my sorrow and left. A few blocks away I thought, “Are you crazy? Are you ready for a lifetime of regret?” made a dangerous U-turn on 15th Street and returned to adopt the $75 cat. 

His name was preordained: he was tenacious, independent, never succumbing to the effects of loneliness, confinement, lack of affection ... as so many homeless animals do. By the time we left the clinic together he already was “Pertinax.” There is great trepidation in bringing a new resident to a home with several dogs and cats of various temperaments. But Pertinax was also a diplomat and knew how to avoid confrontation. He was “convivial” enjoying attention on his terms and by request – a soft mew that entitled the addressed person to a few pats until Pertinax had had enough, which was soon. Unless there was a brush involved; even then, however, he wouldn’t purr. And not once did he jump on a person's lap or remained there if placed. 

Young Pertinax had his quirks: Most notably climbing up the fireplace flue and staying there concerningly long until Chris reached up for him. Glitter balls, or “bolitas” as we called them, were his favorite and only toy, often carrying one in his mouth and stashing dozens under one of the couches. Tearing the upholstery was a problem. He ignored scratching poles, fought having his nails trimmed, and and so I took the coward’s way out and had Pertinax mutilated. It wasn’t the first time I had a cat declawed and I regret them all. All optional animal mutilations should be outlawed. 

In June 2005 Pertinax was one of the pets who stood in the way of accepting the marriage proposal from the love of my life. It required leaving behind all but two -– the limit number of companions animals I could take to Saudi Arabia – of 13 living with me at that time. Cats don't do well moving, so they had to stay in their own familiar environment, and my only hope for doing this was Lanette Dietz: responsible, animal enthusiast, unmarried, young and, lucky for me, hoping to find a new living arrangement. She agreed to take over the care of my five domestic cats, plus two feral cats in the basement and three in the garage, together with the menagerie she brought along, altogether exceeding Tulsa's ill-thought three-pet limit by far. One of my dogs, Edelsinn, had advanced dysplasia and it was time to end his painful struggle before my trip. The other two old dogs, Estrella and Magnus, would travel to the Kingdom where canines are as welcome as women in shorts. 

Lanette enjoyed Pertinax's way to demand attention and then ignore it with Gaelic disdain when he had had enough. His name was even the subject of a shrill ditty – “Perti, Perti, Pertinax, Perti-NAX!”—frequently intoned when drinking with visiting friends. In Lanette’s own words: 

“I loved all the cats that stayed at the house when you went to Saudi Arabia ... but Pertinax was different ... more like a human roommate. Many fond memories of him placing himself on counters, cabinets, bed, tables...all so when anyone passed by he could reach out, grab, and get what he wanted. He had many pitches of "meows" and every one of them demanded respect. He got along with every dog and cat that came into the house and I still tear up remembering it was him who stayed by Violeta's side days before she passed away in her bed. He knew she was sick and I did not. When I had friends over it was Pertinax who they adored and he soaked up the attention. My friend Jake even named their kitten Pertinax because he wanted a "cool" name. Though I had no Cava on hand last night ... I sang the ‘Pertinax Song’ one last time. He so loved it when I sang it to him." -- 1 December 2020" 

When in 2008 we returned stateside, Pertinax and the other domestic Tulsa cats moved to Houston (the "antisocial" 5 stayed with Saint Lanette). By 2012, when we moved to Fayetteville, only Pertinax and Saudi rescue Basmah (plus three dogs) remained. 

A winter game Pertinax played was stealing and hiding gloves, just gloves. He would take one, and hide it, then the other, and stash it somewhere else. Part of the “joke” was putting it back hours or days later, more or less where he found it. He sat waiting nearby to observe and enjoy our reaction to the reappeared item. 

As Pertinax aged his interest in dogs grew. At their obligatory milling around an occupied human toilet, he used the crowded conditions as a pretext to walk between dog legs hoping Astra would gently bite his neck as if threatening his life. 

Pertinax never begged for human food .... until he discovered Ahi Tuna. On the rare occasions we indulged, he jumped on the table to beg ever more insistently until he reached for the fork ... it wasn't worth it for me to break the ethical fish ban. He ate most of it. 

A year of decline for the biosphere, 2020 didn’t spare Pertinax. He was doing as well as can be expected from an 18-year old cat, until the morning of 28 November. After breakfast he started pacing. He never went back to his usual comfortable perch on the couch where he spent most of his senior life. Up and down, anxiously he paced the house increasingly getting stuck in corners and narrow places. I put him in a cat carrier and in our bedroom for the night. He rested. In the morning he was alive but much weaker. 

We arranged a larger padded enclosure, where the walking (and now falling) continued on and off. Astra and Janowitz watched from a distance; Tobias the Dachshund was visibly concerned, at one point even licking the cat's nose through the pen's fence. Basmah, the only other feline, was not leaving the basement, perhaps getting used to life without "Naxos." 

Once again, Pertinax rested in his carrier overnight and Monday morning he was still alive, patiently waiting for the end. At 1500 hours Dr. Jones and Angela helped him get there. 

Mung Mung, the dog whose rescue brought Pertinax and me together, was euthanized years ago by order of the Tulsa Sheriff's Department after an incident. He didn't warm up to people's lame attempts and so he was relegated to a box: a backyard surrounded by a privacy fence, thus condemned to perpetual boredom. Pertinax won in life, Mung Mung didn't, which is why the chain is more painful to look at than the ashes.