Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Big Sue
As we close out 2008, we take a moment to remember Mr. Susan.Of indiscriminate breeding, missing teeth, bad breath, and a lot of love.
No cat ever worked harder to climb onto a lap, arthritis and all. And that low center of gravity made him nearly impossible to remove once he got situated.
A neighbor called to say she'd seen our flier (LOST CAT), and that she'd seen a mutilated animal left in a front yard of some people nearby. Some renters. Perhaps a victim of just the sort of coyote attack plaguing the neighborhood. But the time frame was off by three weeks, and she was calling weeks later. It didn't sound like the kind of closure I was looking for. I didn't run down the lead.
So weeks go by, and months, and we last saw him in the triple-digit sweat of summer. Today snow mixes with ice. We've had other, bigger deals since then.But at night, when I hear the tick-tick of little claws, the pause, then the leap, I can tell it's Mabel, the other cat. Mr. Susan climbed onto the bed by getting his claws hung in the covers, and then dragging himself onto the sheets. Then purring, he'd curl up to sleep on my back.
Male Domestic Shorthair. That's one way of looking at it.
Gone. That's another.
We miss you, Big Sue.
