Our dear cat Trouble died tonight. We found him at the bottom of the cellar steps just before dinner, lying peacefully, as if asleep. Legs and Noodle are very upset, and although Skunk and I tried to appear brave and grown-up about it, we failed. We brought Trouble home from a trip to the supermarket one day. A pair of siblings had stationed themselves by the entrance, giving away kittens. He was the last one in the box. Skunk and I argued all the way home about the wisdom of such an impulse; mine, of course. We had the pleasure of his company for 17 years. He used to sit in the kitchen and watch me bake all night, back in the days when I had insomnia. Sometimes I would read poetry aloud to him. He liked Stanley Kunitz best. He never cared much for our current dog Mia.
We shall bury him in the garden between the cherry tree and the honeysuckle, next to our previous dog Banzai, a Rhodesian Ridgeback who was his best mate.
I miss him already. Good-bye, Trubbie.
3 comments:
I'm so sorry! How sad. Every pet I've ever had has become a part of the family. It really hurts to lose them. Sending hugs! :(
Thank you, 24. We are all feeling a little unhinged by grief this morning. My vegetable-hating son demanded only carrot sticks for his school snack today.
Oh Meg, I'm sorry! Seventeen is a real good 'run' for a cat but it doesn't make it any easier when they finally go. (When my beloved Sylvester, also 17, died just after Kate was born, my mother, with her usual empathy said, if you want something to outlive you, get a tortoise. I KNOW there are people who love amphibians, but, hey, I can't imagine one sitting in my lap purring!)
Hugs to all. Love, Pat
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