2004-09-17 - 4:40 p.m.
So...
I'm sad right now. My cat died on Wednesday.
He was very old and his health has been sketchy for the past 6 months, so I knew it was coming. But still, I am sad that I didn't get to hug him good bye. He lived with my parents in the Netherlands. I last saw him 2 years ago. He was a little weak back then, showing signs of aging, but still very lively. I am glad my last memories are happy ones, but I would've liked one more hug before he went.
I didn't have the heart to bring him to "the concrete jungle" when I moved to the city. My dad just adored Ebony (or Ebbie, as he was affectionately nicknamed) so I left him with my parents and he made himself a very happy and important member of Hotel Stott.
We adopted him too early. He was only four weeks old when I brought him home with me from a jr. high social event. I brought him home tucked into the elbow of my sweatshirt. My dad saw that I had some sort of furry creature with me and he said, "NO. Absolut -- Awwwwwwww. Okay!" All I had to do was set little Ebbie down on the top of the stairs. He won my dad over immediately.
I guess because we took him away from his mommy too early, he was positively lovesick whenever he wanted to cuddle...for the rest of his life! He'd move his paws back and forth and try to "nurse". Drooling all over the place. We re-tooled the lyrics to "Hungry Eyes" (you know, that old 80's ballad by Eric Carmen?) to serenade him when he was feeling cuddly: "He's got...Looooooovesick eyes!!"
He was quite the man about town also. He was an indoor/outdoor cat. Late at night we'd stand on the front steps and call out to him so we could lock him up for the night. He wouldn't answer right away. Rather, we'd find him sauntering back and forth on the steps in his own time, tail swishing back and forth like, "What? You requested my presence?" His ears and the pads of his feet would be warm and his coat would smell of various strange perfumes. The jig was up -- He was logging hours at homes all up and down the street! Once, Ebbie was sunbathing in the driveway while the rest of us were inside the house. We heard a lady come up our walkway, pat him on the head and exclaim, "Hi Slick! Do you live here? Is this your real home, baby?" (We were tickled. I mean...Slick? Cool name. Why did WE think of that?)
He had a beautiful thick black coat. Short and very soft. In the sun, it would glint hints of burgundy. He must have been part Siamese, because he had high, prominent cheek bones. He was a handsome devil!
The weirdest thing happened in 1995 when my parent were planning their move to the East coast (prior to the move to Europe). Ebbie got "stressed out" and his gorgeous coat turned grey. A few months after the move was complete and he was happily settled in his new home, his coat went back to black again.
He was an avid hunter and spent most of his kittenhood pretending he was a sleek panther in the trees just beyond our backyard. I'll never forget the two weeks my parents spent in London. Ebbie left a "meal" every night next to the front door for me and my sister. Every. Night. It was sweet in concept...but the carnage was not exactly a welcome site to two very squeemish teenaged girls! Birds, squirrels, rabbits, possums....pretty soon, all local critters were steering clear of our backyard, which we renamed "The Killing Fields".
Ebbie didn't hunt in his later years. He made it to the ripe old age of 17, which is very good for a cat! He spent most of his time in The Hague enjoying the view out the big front window, or sitting in the garden behind the house.
He "fought the good fight", as my mom said. But the bad days started to outnumber the good days and now he's gone.
I hope he's hunting some big prey up in heaven right now. I hope there are lots of angels assigned to petting him too.
In memory of EBONY 1987 - 2004
____________________________________________________
