It makes me sad to post readers’ cats that are no longer with us, but most of us will outlive our cats (I’ve endured the death of two), and it helps us remember the good parts of their companionship. This photo and note come from reader Carol Taskin. a musician:
We said goodbye to our cat two weeks ago. Spook was a tiny stray kitten when we found him one Halloween night and he came to us at a moment when we needed a black ray of sunshine. His life became intertwined with ours, he was good company and a faithful friend, we loved him and he loved us. I keep thinking I see him out of the corner of my eye and I miss the sound of him pawing at the floor as he always did before drinking from his dish.
Probably the most remarkable thing about him was his transformation when our two older cats died. His personality completely changed: he was overjoyed to be an only cat and instantly took over the whole house. He started talking, greeted people at the door and would come from wherever he was in the house when I sat down to play the harpsichord. He seemed to know to wait for cadences in the music for me to be free to give him a scratch.
Spook had some health problems early on which later in life lead to diabetes, kidney and liver disease on top of his heart murmur. He rallied so many times from illness, more than nine lives worth. It’s pretty amazing, if not a bit ironic, that he made it to 13.
This photo I call ‘King Spook’ because he looks so regal. He was a superior cat.
‘Floor cat’ is the view I frequently had sitting at the harpsichord: he would come from wherever he was in the house when I started to play.
[JAC]: Finally, a picture that could be called “Where are my noms? Those fish aren’t real.”