Goodbye Dick
In the picture, Wendy is tickling Dicks tummy, just last month on our Narrowboat. He was never one for much fuss but occassionally, allowed you to pet him for five minutes before strolling a few feet away for a quiet sleep. He had a lovely hello noise he made when he saw you, particularly if you woke him from a sleep. He had a large head, the biggest of the three triplets with alert ears and clear eyes.
Today, he’s dead, found 100 yards from the house in perfect condition. Wendy reminded me that he had a hole in his heart and it probably gave out. He was the healthiest looking, the strongest and the one with the real wild in him. He did all the mousing - he lived for his hunting. He used to go across to the woodland and spend hours doing what came naturally, hunting his food in the form of mice and rats. He would have made a superb feral cat – possibly the only one I know that could have actually been capable of feeding himself in the wild. But his heart gave in it seems.
Dick was independent, strong, elegant and even tiger-like. He calmed the others and somehow helped to solve some of the complex relationships that developed between our older cats and the kittens (who are now nearly 2). He was the only one that our big black battleship of a cat (Sox) only recently would tolerate. Just over the last week or so, Sox had grown fond of Dick but tonight, she settled late, obviously wondering where he was. A sad day indeed.
Over the years, I’m sure he would have turned into one of those big fit looking cats. He had tall shoulders, bright eyes, slim and alert. He looked clever too, and he was. The head cat, it turned out. We are now leaderless.
I wrapped his stiff body in a towel and gently put him in a bag. His normally flexible body, now springy and uncomfortable. Wendy commented on his “dead” weight. We took him to the vets and asked for a decent cremation.
I miss you.
:(
