In honor of Pym, who loved cats, I eulogize my baby, Opie, who left this earth one week ago yesterday, at the age of 23 years, 4 mos.+. He passed away quietly, under his favorite "bunny" blanket, with my husband and I sitting next to him on the floor, petting him, and telling him how wonderful he was. I inherited Opie and his brother, Daxie, over ten years ago. They were grey, tiger-striped tabbies, born in a barn, and great hunters of "meeces," bunnies, and all other lesser creatures, except birds, which they feared. They chirped at them. Daxie, 16+ pounds, "grumpy," dignified, aka, Daximo the Magnificent, looked like Sebastian Cabot, and was the only grown up in the house. He was loyal and stalwart, and also died peacefully in his sleep at age 20. He loved Christmas, and shrimp [he could spell it], and fresh bags of dry cat food cracked open. For this, he made pretty eyes for me a la Puss in Boots in Shrek, and he would lick my hands. He liked to sleep at the foot of the bed, on a long pillow, against my foot.
Opie was his sib. He weighed 8 lbs. They were life-long pals. Opie was flighty, but a fierce hunter even into his late teens. He once bagged a squirrel nearly his size after I chided him for preying on something so big. It was laid out where I usually parked my car. Both boys caught mice for me, and one memorable Mother's Day, after I had a card adressed "Meow-Ma" offering me a dead rat poem and two catnip mousies enclosed, the boys left me an offerring at the front door. They were waiting by it and twittering with pleasure.
The boys migrated from my brother in law's house, to my inlaws, and then to ours. Too many little girls and other cats. When we bought our house, my husband announced one blustery March he was going to pick up "the boys." Usually, they hid under the deck at my in-laws, or hid in the woods, but both were waiting on the top step, wind blown, patient, as if they had discussed it and packed. They never looked back, and came home happy, no carriers, no nothing. They went straight to our room in a house they had not seen before, and went to sleep.
Opie loved chicken, char broiled steak, and lobster tidbits. He loved my walk - in cedar closet, and trying on necklaces. His memoirs were called "Mr. Opie's Fashion Adventures," and he loved trying on his own cat outfits. He liked being told nice things, especially "we're smitten with the kitten," and singing. He slept on a Lion King fleece blanket, loved sleeping in a Victorian Doll bed with the dolls, and had favorite stuffed toys, Animal the Muppet, a Cow named Rose of Aberlone II, a few toy mousies. He liked to purr, and to snuggle with me, and meowed in different keys, trilling his "r's" when he was mad. He also stood in various ballet positions, depending on his mood.
Both boys loved to watch Born Free. They hated dogs but were never aloof. Daxie sort of "barked," actually. I never liked cats, and my mother was phobic, but she always asked and worried about The Boys. I fell in love with them completely.
I used to be allergic, but not to these two. I miss them both, and it is very lonely. Opie was my soul-mate; his antics were legendary; he was known also as Office Cat and "The Land Lord." He loved visiting the elderly couple next door "for coffee" and exchanged gifts and greeting cards. Life is very empty now, and very sad.
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