I remember when we found Sal.  We were eating at a place called Salvatore’s at Inverness Corners in Birmingham.  The year was 1999. They had outside seating, so it was a great place to go on a warm night.  Angela and I were eating when all the sudden a young cat, orange and white, probably 6 months old, just plopped down by our feet.  It was like he picked us. 

We finished our meal and by that time, Sal had moved on.  It became apparent that he was a stray and was living in the thick bushes in the parking lot of the shopping center.  We decided to try and take him home.  I was in the vehicle, and Angela went and was able to call Sal out and actually pick him up without getting clawed to death.  She brought him over to the car, and I had the front windows open.  Sal went in one window and did a one- hop out the other window to escape.  We did it again and somehow got him in and took him home – why he complied with that, I’ll never know.  I get the feeling he just knew to trust us.

We named him after the place we found him.  Sal and the Dunn family were connected from that point forward.

We took him home to our first house and Sal was an outdoor cat.  I can remember Angela being pregnant with Drew, and me going down to the basement of our house every night to bring him in and pet him and give him attention, so he would feel like he belonged and was connected.  In those young days, he was pretty territorial, and he got in an altercation with another cat and ended up taking a claw to the eye.  Crazy and acting like pets are children, we paid $1,000 to fix the eye rather than let him die.  It seems like a small price now.

Sal had to make some adjustments to his diet once he joined us.  One of the things that he lived on was eating bugs and cockroaches that came out to find pieces of food at the Pizzeria we found him at.  For at least 6 months after we had him, he couldn’t resist munching on a bug, even though his food bowl was full.  Survival instincts are hard to turn off, I guess.  Eventually, he figured out he had moved past survival mode.

Drew came into the world and Sal’s life changed.  For the better, I think.  Once Drew reached the toddler stage and we were outside more, Sal saw more of the family in general.  Sal was like a dog in that way – he would follow the family around wherever we were in the yard or in the cul-de-sac of our second house in Birmingham.

The other thing that became apparent was that Sal was protective of Drew and Brady.  Accidents happen with kids – they fall off bikes, etc.   If Sal wasn’t around for some reason and an accident happened, he would come running when he heard Brady or Drew cry – like he was ready to stand guard and protect them.  I’m sure after seeing this happen 4 or 5 times that if someone would have been trying to hurt them, he would have gone nuts on that person or thing with his claws.

One of my favorite things related to Sal was the bus stop.  We live about 40 yards down a hill from the bus stop for our boys, and when I’m in town I’ve always made a habit of walking up to the bus when I can with the boys.  Many mornings, Sal would hear us come outside and follow us up to the bus stop, like a dog.  The kids on the bus would point to Sal like a rare sighting, as if they were saying, “look at that cat – he’s just sitting at attention there next to the Dad while the kids get on the bus!  How odd!”

While Sal was an independent personality, I always felt a great connection to him.  That probably goes back to the early days when I would let him into the basement and give him lots of attention when he was young.  As a result, Sal would put up with a lot for me.  As the boys got older, I always loved picking Sal up by the front shoulders, back feet hanging down, and make a big show of kissing him hard 5 or 6 times on the side of the head.  He could have sliced me up with his claws, but inside he knew who his buddy was, so he took it.  The boys thought that was hilarious.

He was a different kind of cat.  I’m not sure there will ever be another one like him.  He had personality, independence and a sense of connection with our family that none of our other pets have ever had.

On April 2, 2011, Angela got a call from a neighbor.  The neighbor said a cat had been hit in the street up by the bus stop and she was fearful it might be Sal.  We walked up and it was Sal.  Angela broke down crying and I took off my sweatshirt and picked Sal up and held him in my arms like a baby.  Sal was dead, and the scene felt pretty surreal to us.  We walked down the road to the house and let the boys know the news, and pet Sal.

Angela got a small box and we lined it with a towel.  I placed Sal in the position I had seen him sleeping in a thousand times.  I’m crying as I type this.  Later today, I’m going to dig a hole and bury him in our back yard. 

For a cat like Sal, you can’t send him off to a place you pay to dispose of him.  You have to bury him in the place where he lived his life, and wonder if there’s any way he can see you as you live the rest of your life without him.