Bob came into our lives 13 years ago. It was spring, we were out in the garage and heard a tiny mew coming out of a box that was stored out there. The box lid was mostly closed with only a narrow opening enough for a kitten to crawl through. He was probably about 6 weeks old. Feral mom cat strikes again. We never really figured out who she was but had our strong suspicions (the one that wouldn’t go into the trap).
We opened up the box and he just looked up and mewed at us. We knew immediately that this was a going to be a great cat. We brought him inside and I sat down on the sofa with him in my lap. He watched as one of my adult cats (DH claims it was Stumpy) walked up to a closet door in that room and put his paw under the door to open it. Then he fell asleep for the next 2 hours. Upon waking, he jumped down on the floor, walked over to the closet door and reached his paw underneath it and pulled with all his little might. Being a solid wood door he didn’t have a chance, but he knew it was a cool trick, we knew he was incredibly smart and we knew we could be in deep trouble.
DH and I lived in a rural area at the time and when Bob was about 6 months old, he convinced me that Bob would be OK if we let him outside. OK, it wasn’t so much as convincing me as it was coercing me, but sometimes you just bow to the marriage. It turned out to be the best thing we could have done for Bob. He LOVED the outside. Fields to hunt in, trees to climb, more cats to interact with, and he quickly became alpha of the great outdoors. He always came in each day and spent more time inside during bad weather, but outside was his domain.
Bob became what we call our “revolving door cat”. When inside he wanted out, and when outside he wanted in. It’s not that he really wanted to be in the other place. I think he just liked to watch us opening the door for him. There were times we’d let him out a side door and he’d walk straight to the front door and ask to come back inside. If it was late and we were in bed, he’d climb a tree to get on our roof and jump to our 2nd floor bedroom window sill and scratch until we opened up the window to let him in. He did the same if he saw us in the bathroom. I can’t tell you the number of times I’d sing “he came in through the bathroom window……”. His constant antics gave rise to his nickname “Bob-O-Matic”.
Bob had the softest fur of any cat that I’ve ever come across. It had the texture of silky rabbit fur and stayed like that even in his final days. Everyone who ever touched him would exclaim how soft he was. I will miss that fur. He had white paws, which caused us to give him the nickname “Bobby-socks”.
Bob wasn’t a snuggly cat, and in fact got the nickname “Busy Cat” because he couldn’t sit still for very long. While mellow, there were too many things to see and do – doors to walk through, trees to climb, birds to watch, sunshine to lay in, mice to catch, cats to play with. When he came to me for loving, he would walk back and forth across my lap meowling at me to pet him. But he never once laid down in my lap other than the day we brought him in the house and the day before we released him from his pain.
Bob Marley got his name because his eyes were normally half shut and he frankly looked stoned all the time. Obviously he wasn’t (he wasn’t into catnip), but rather, he was just an incredibly mellow and happy-go-lucky cat. While king of the outdoor domain, when inside he would completely defer that role to our indoor alpha cat Stumpy. He got along marvelously with all of the cats, whether they lived inside or outside. He quietly accepted things where ever he was at and only complained once in his entire life.
When he was about 7 years old, we discovered FeLV in our outdoor feral colony. Since Bob interacted with those cats, I decided it was time to keep him inside. In that month or so that he was confined to the inside, he would let me know how frustrated he was by jumping into bed with me at night and peeing on me. DH was furious, but I understood what he was telling me and actually laughed about it. I got the feral colony situation resolved and Bob won that argument. OK, I guess he had a stubborn gene on top of the mellow gene.
Bob loved to be on top of things, particularly the roof of our house. The house where we found him had trees nearby that he could climb and drop onto the roof. When we moved, we were a bit concerned because there weren’t any trees close to the house. He still found a way to get on that roof. I would stand outside watching him and try to figure out how he did it, but he never gave up that secret. I’d find him on the roof, looking down at me all proud of himself. A “good boy Bob” simply got a happy meow from him.
Bob instinctively understood the role of our dogs. While he didn’t interact with them very often, he knew they were there to protect him while outside. When we moved to our current home and I finally let Bob back outside (funny he didn’t complain about the 6 weeks I kept him inside this time), he stood on the deck with the dogs and waited for them to walk off the deck before he ventured out himself. He followed the dogs around, never allowing them more than about 20 feet away from him. When they returned to the deck, he followed them. He did this for months until he was sure of his new environment. How many cats can figure that out on their own? Bob was incredibly smart.
Of all the cats that have ever blessed our lives, Bob has caused the least amount of problems and has also had the best possible life. We allowed him to live on his terms (other than the torturous month inside) and he was very happy with his life. True to his name sake, his motto was indeed “don’t worry about a thing, cause every little thing is gonna be all right”.
When we discovered he had cancer this past February, the vet gave him 2 weeks to live. We immediately resorted to our “Love and Cheese Danish” strategy of health care, and I’m not so sure if it was that, or the fact he loved life so much that kept him going. But as cancer does, it spread from his lungs into his bones, and even with that, he didn’t want to let on that he was in pain because he just wasn’t done with life. He kept eating, kept going though the revolving door, loved his time lying in the sun, and loved to watch the birds.
DH called you one of his all time favorite cats, and from a dog lover, that is a tremendous compliment. Even though he went through life as mellow and quiet as a cat can be, a huge void just opened up in all of our lives.
We laid you to rest out in a sunny field underneath a bird feeder, which you always loved to watch. We sprinkled bird food on top of your grave and immediately 3 little birds landed on top of you to nibble at the food. I can see your eyes get wide and your whiskers twitch just thinking about it. We’ll keep the birds coming for you…..
Bob Marley. My Bobbie-O, Bobbie-socks, Bob-o-matic, Busy Cat. You will be sorely missed.
Amy, we knew it was coming, but it lessens the pain none at all. 
Bob Marley 
OK - maybe I'm making my way to some kind of happy cry.
