BYE, BYE, BEST BOY...

The sad news is that we have recently lost our much loved old ginger boy. For a cat who never managed to acquire a proper name (except for being registered at the vet as 'Tom' by virtue of being a boy, and ginger) he had no identity problems, he knew he was one of us. On the other hand he was happy to respond to, and come running if needed, to anything from; Lovely Boy, Fatty Boy Big Bum, Mr. Blobby, My Besty Boy, to; GET-YOUR-WHISKERS-AWAY-FROM-MY-ANKLES Boy, and many, many, more depending on the day and time. It was the sounds of our voices that he knew and responded to.

He came to us as a half-starved rescue kitten, via the Cat's Protection League, who had been saved from death by a vet's assistant at the People's Dispensary for Sick Animals armed with an eye dropper and a sense of mission. She fed him every two hours day and night for the first week, and restored him to good health.

Though at first he lacked any 'street smarts' and pretty much had no head for heights, he led a long and happy life, and was secure in the knowledge that whatever obstacles came along - we could be relieon to leap in and move them for him. Even if it did sometimes entail wailing VERY LOUDLY to get our attention.
He was 16 years old when he finally failed, which wasn't bad for a moggie who had lived on borrowed time.

We miss him all the time. We miss his snoring, in fact the TV seems too loud now. We miss the pleasure we had in watching him snoozing so comfortably, and in so many positions. And the last of a tub of yoghurt just doesn't seem the same without his head stuck in it.

His house companion - and his back stage manipulator - the Big Girl misses him as well. She has made several tours of the house looking in places where he used to doze, and even Sparky from next door has been in and thoughtfully scanned the area in the sitting room where his last cage/bedsitting room was. Mind you, we think she had dibs on that, because she wasn't averse to going in and having a test drive of his bed if he happened to go out for a while.

In short, we all loved him very much and we miss him. Here is a poem, which some of you may already know, which is attributed to "Unknown Author", which just manages to say it all.

Get your tissues and hankies ready:

If it should be that I grow frail and weak
and pain does keep me from my sleep,
then will you do what must be done
for this-the last battle-can't be won.
You will be sad; I understand
but don't let grief then stay your hand.
For on this day, more than the rest
your love and friendship must stand the test.
We have had so many happy years;
you wouldn't want me to suffer so.
When the time comes, please let me go.
Take me to where my needs they'll tend,
only, stay with me until the end.
And hold me firm and speak to me
until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time you will agree
it is a kindness you do for me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
from pain and suffering I have been saved.
Don't grieve that it must now be you
who has to decide this thing to do.
We've been so close-we two-these years,
don't let your heart hold any tears.

(Anonymous)

Enough said.

(c) Thelma Mitchell March 2006