This is a hard post to write and it's taken me a few days to build up to it, but on Saturday afternoon, we finally had to say goodbye to a dear friend. He went peacefully, at home, curled up in my lap -- his all time favorite place to be. In the course of his long and adventurous life he charmed all who came into his company with simple gestures of affection. Total strangers visiting the house would feel a bump and look down to find him rubbing his cheeks against their legs. The moment there was a lap available, he claimed it as his, swatting away any other cat that dared encroach.
In his younger days, he was a scourge to small creatures who had the misfortune to cross his path. But he was always generous with his bounty, once leaving me an entire blackbird under the pillow of my bed.
As he aged, he grappled with kidney and pancreas problems. By last week he had gone from his fighting weight of eleven pounds to barely three. But even reduced to, literally, skin and bones, he happily curled up between the feet of Sara and me each night, purring his crackling, contented purr. Three years ago, we were sure that a particularly nasty infection would take him from us, but he defied fate. Every day since then has been, in effect, borrowed time. And he made the most of it. His last few days, especially, were good ones.
We're distracted, to a degree, with the four other cats we've been unable to resist taking in. Still, there will never be another like Tuxedo. He loved and was loved. He was our dear friend and his absence is profound. But he left behind such wonderful memories that what we feel cannot truly be called a loss. Any of us would be lucky to have the same impact.
Requiescat In Pace. We'll miss you.
