We had to put our little ginger buddy to sleep yesterday. It was a
very sad day. He'd been ill with fever for about two weeks, and crashed
totally on Saturday morning, likely a stroke at the very end. He'd
been 3 times to the vet, and was on meds for the fever, but we had no
luck.
Unless you've lived with a cat for a long time, you can never really understand how individual they are, and how much personality they possess. Each cat we have had the pleasure of living with (a total of five, plus Mitzi, who lived with Deb and her family before our marriage) has been a totally different critter. They have quirks that go beyond description, and habits that can seem both maddening and hilarious.
Gustav brought much love, laughter, and entertainment to the Homestead, and was the best mouser one could imagine, seldom harming them but presenting them to us in the middle of the night in bed. Every morning he would be allowed into the attached garage, and would take a sniff around. Then he would come in for his morning margarine, his favourite treat. He would take about a teaspoonful in small lumps at a time from the end of my finger, in the most gentle manner.
At night he would often come up to bed with me, snuggling close, and slowly turning over to expose his belly for a night time rub. His eyes would get all watery and glassy after a few minutes of it, and he would purr quite loudly. Downstairs, he would jump up on the cat perch for his daily brushing. Five minutes of brushing and we would leave him, but he'd still be there 20 minutes later, purring just as loudly as when we were brushing him. He loved classical music, especially baroque strings, and he loved the fireplace when it was roaring. He would sometimes sit so close that we thought he would go up in a puff of smoke one day.
Deb had been feeding him outside one cold winter, then decided to trap him and bring him inside. She took three days off work to stay home with him, keeping him in the cage. He was completely wild. She read to him, fed him, and stroked him gently through the bars with "the stick of love." Before long he was house trained and as spoiled as most cats can get.
Gustav was always popular with visitors, and had many young girlfriends, mostly piano students who would much rather have spent their lesson time playing, petting, and brushing Gustav than sitting with me over at the piano.
We still have Mogollon, our 5th cat. He was also trapped in our yard, after persistently hanging around the bird feeders trying to catch his dinner. He is old and arthritic now, though still a kitten at heart, and playful. But the house feels strangely empty without Gustav. And so do we.
Gustav in tummy rub position.
Gustav and Mogollon enjoy an afternoon fire and nap.
Mapman Mike
No comments:
Post a Comment