Geraint Roberts - Ramblings of a would-be published novelist

Farewell to the cheekie chap

In a year surprisingly full of mishap and bad luck, I have to now log the death of a third cat for 2005. Panther my little black puss with his bright green eyes. He had a ruptured bladder and combined with the respiratory tract infection, the vet decided he hadn't a chance of surviving surgery.
I spent the last 2 nights cuddling him at night and as I left the vet we had a hug, the little rascal as always placing a front paw on each shoulder and rubbing noses, as he has for ten years now. Now he's gone and I feel like shit.
He was a very friendly cat and was well lovd by many who got to know him. The old lady in my street back at my old place evn knocked on my door before I moved and tearfully begged me to leave him. He would always be looking for fuss, as you walked around the bed and he was on it. he would follow you and be sittingwaiting for the cuddle. In brighter times, he had a strange desire to wash my ears and perhaps more naturally, wash my hair. i know it sounds daft, it was actually very relaxing, albeit as long as I was not going out in public soon after! Perhaps it was a sign that I was accepted as 'one of the cats'
He and his dearly departed brother Tiger came to me when I lived in MK. Two adorable kittens, they were found in a sack and those who took them in actually would not let them inside the house. They were given a kennel and their natural curiosity took them to my doorstep, the door always open in the summer heat.
I let them in, but that was man for my 3 tabbies and those 2 kittens would roam around oblivious to the chorus of hisses, especially from Poppy. In the end, i pushed them out and hardened my heart. Until one January, it was -10 and snowy outside. I looked out the back door and there was a lump. A furry mass of two kittens curled up together, one head each side to keep warm. My heart melted and they were part of the house from then on. When Poppy died of kidney failure, they became part of the gang and unlike Smudge, were accepted by Alex and Thomas.
Now both are gone, one guards the plum tree and the other will soon join him nearby. I feel terrible, I had perhaps seen this coming for days, but it doesn't stop the hurt when you have to make the call that signals the end of a cheerful life. The memories are full and warm, but now that is all I have, my bundle of black warmth is no more.
Apologies if this is in bad English or the spelling is wrong, tonight I don't give a shit. Sorry.

posted by Geraint @ 8:59 pm