h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

After work today, I went up to my parents' house and cuddled the cat for twenty minutes or more.

My memories of how we found him are vague. I do remember where it was: a little ball of orange fur under the wall of Charleville Estate, across the road from our house. But I don't remember which of the family found him. It was I who named, him, though. Fancifully, as is my wont. I called him after the Biblical character Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz. Why not?

Baz was friendly. He liked people. That, I think, was his defining characteristic. When he was a kitten, you could hold him up in the air and he wouldn't stop purring. He liked sitting in laps. And if you picked him up and slung him over your shoulder, he wouldn't object. He liked being petted. He just liked people. During the summer, windows and doors would stand open all day as long as we were home, and Baz knew he was welcome to come and go as he pleased.

My parents were away in Canada recently, and I was in the house to mind the animals. Six ducks needed food and water morning and night. And Baz needed medicine. He had an infection in his cheek, and there was a large wound. It was beginning to clear up, but he still needed an antiseptic cream every morning and a pippette of medicine down his throat morning and night. He didn't like it, of course. No cat would. But he still didn't object. When I dragged him out from under the sofa, he'd resist, holding onto the wooden floorboards as best he could, but he'd never turn on me in any way. When I wrapped him in an old sheet, the better to hold him on my lap as I ministered to his wound and forced the pippette down his throat, I didn't bother wrapping him tightly: I didn't need to. And while he didn't like it, he'd still stay on my lap for a cuddle afterward.

He was improving. The wound on his cheek was beginning to clear up when my parents came home. I'd run out of medicine, and the vet had said that was okay.

Yesterday, my mother sent me a text in which she mentioned "Baz alive, but far from kicking". Then, this morning, that he was dying. So I went up to say goodbye.

He was sitting on his sofa: it's small and not particularly comfortable and sits in an awkward corner and I've never seen anyone else use it. He looked up as I came in. He seemed bright and alert, actually, at first. I crouched on the floor and petted him a bit, then sat down beside him. Before long, he'd curled himself up in my lap. He did seem bedraggled, now I came to look at him better. Patches of fur on tail and legs needed grooming. The wound on his cheek looked worse again. And there was a bit of lassitude to him. But he was as friendly as ever.

I just sat and held him for a long while. I had to go (there was a CoderDojo committee meeting I had to be at), but I didn't want to. Eventually, I gently moved him out of my lap, and he did seem perhaps a bit stiffer than usual, or was that my imagination? And I stroked him one last time, said my goodbyes, and left.

I'll miss him.

TRiG.

oh that was a lovely description of Baz. it made me though - it's very hard to say goodbye to them, isn't it? Is there nothing to be done? (I'm guessing he's quite old now)

(for the )

Aww, I know how attached you were to that cat. Sorry to see him go. Glad he still enjoyed his cuddles to the end.

Condolences from the Lair

It's hard to let them go, even if it's the only thing to do.

It turned out not to be the end after all. I got a text from my mother this morning saying he ate well this morning. He has immune deficiency virus, but the antibiotics are keeping him going. So they're holding out a while longer. As long as he's not actually in pain (and he didn't seem to be), we may as well.

I don't think I've ever got *quite* as close to animals as some people do, but we have had some very friendly cats, and you definitely develop a relationship, sometimes a very strong one. I remember Jelly, from my childhood. (Named after Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats: he was black and white, and small (at least when we got him).) Baz has been with us a long time.

Thanks, everyone.

TRiG.

I think I met Baz down at your parents' place - he was definitely a "people cat". There was him, and then there was the black cat who his in the woodshed if he heard people coming. The two couldn't have been more different!

I'm glad he's in no pain, at least.

Yes, Baz liked people. Pirate (black with hints white, unfriendly, female) has a completely different temperament. My parents don't feed Pirate any more, as they found someone else was, but she still hangs out in the garden quite a bit.

She once let me stroke her, very very briefly.

TRiG.