Gracie is a somewhat peculiar cat: mis-sexed by the Vet at the start of his life, he got stuck with his somewhat feminine name before it was feasible to change it. He nevertheless went on to growl, scratch and bite with the best of them. It took him a long time (and the example of my other cat) to learn how to purr, but he’s been pretty good at it for several years now. He’s now playful, likes to stare you out as you’re enjoying dinner (so that he can get the scraps you feel guiltily obliged to share with him) and takes great pleasure in head-butting you when you’re least expecting it.
At one time he acquired the nickname ‘Adolph’, because he’d walk into a new home and immediately take it over, as though he’d lived there all his life. Let us politely call his a ‘dominant feline personality’!
He’s seldom in the garden (he likes his comfy chair too much for that), but has been seen on more than one occasion to let birds walk over him: the effort to do anything but watch them was clearly beyond his energy budget that day. He’s also been known to run up tree trunks and onto the underside of branches, before the law of gravity exerted itself and made him fall out. He is, possibly, the only cat that routinely landed on his head in such circumstances.
And for all those reasons and more, we shall miss him after Saturday, when he takes his final trip to the vet. He had two strokes last year and has been a bit wobbly on his legs ever since. This week, he’s just had two more, and although he seems as cheerful as ever, he’s struggling to get around in a straight line and he’s getting thin. We’ve decided we have to make the call for him, since he’s not in a position to do so.
I am not looking forward to Saturday.
Sounds like Gracie had a great life, even when he was ill. Where did you get him?
Hi Richard,
We got him just from a vets. Not a very competent one, by all accounts!
Howard,
I’m not a cat fan myself, but I know it’s no fun when you have to take a pet on the final trip to the vets. You have my sympathies.
I recently had to take my kingsnake to be put down too http://qdosmsq.dunbar-it.co.uk/blog/2011/03/domino-is-gone/ – after 15 years. Cancer.
I still look at the tank to see what she’s up to. She’s not there.
Cheers,
Norm.
Thanks Norm, and nice to hear from you again… I like your blog, and felt enormous empathy for your rant/rave about noisy children on planes! (January 8th)
I am extremely surprised by how gloomy I’ve been since Saturday: as though nothing is worth doing anymore, because one part of the team is missing. A bit like in Lord of the Rings after Gandalf ‘dies’ at the ‘you shall not pass’ moment.
As a rational person, I didn’t expect dispatching a ‘mere pet’ to be like this, I must say.
Hi Howard,
you may have gathered that I’m not a fan of children then? Not even the quite ones. Never could see the point myself. Strange? Maybe I had too many brothers as a child. (2).
The feeling miserable will pass, you’ve not “dispatched a ‘mere pet’” you have lost a fried, companion, and family member that you’ve known a long time. Of course it hurts.
If you are anything like me, you will get over the hurt, but will still be thinking and remembering. The worst part is the looking – as I mentioned above, I still look at the tank to see what’s Domino is up to – and still get a sinking feeling when I realise she’s gone.
I don’t think I’ll be replacing her any time.
Cheers,
Norm.