Requiascet in Pacem Dick Kitty
Today there is one less asshole in the world. And he will be sorely missed. Inky was our troublemaking black cat. He'd pick fights with other cats because he was bored. He'd claim a space or a lap just so neither of his brothers could have it. But he always made sure Mom was safe when she went to the bathroom. And he knew when to be adorable and cute in order to disarm you, no matter how irritated you were at him. He was Amanda's favorite, and she was his. But with her being in TN so much, he had decided that John was an acceptable substitute. He would follow John around, and visit him in his office or when he made a lap in the Daddy chair. When he lay in the sunbeam, one of his favorite hobbies, his black fur turned warm chocolate. He was a hard cat to photograph, as black cats often are. He'd usually just appear as a dark blob doing something super cute. I'm pretty sure I have at least a couple of shots of him, but the only one I can find at hand is this one of him and his brother negotiating placement on the bed. Or it's another incident of 'groomin time' turning into 'rassle time'. He's the blur on the left. He and I had a complicated relationship. When I first moved in, I was usually the one to grab him up when somebody violated catlock protocol by leaving the front door open. I was his moon faced assassin of joy, so he'd avoid me. After a few years, things got a little better; I'd manage to get one or two pets in as he walked past, accidentally getting too close. He didn't hiss or spit or run away, he'd just crouch lower and lower to the ground to try and avoid me while he passed. We came to an agreement where every once in a while I could pick him up for a short bit, and I would make sure to put him down before he started to squirm and thrash. And sometime last month, when John was out of the house and I was sitting in the Daddy chair, he examined the situation and decided that I would do as an alternative lap just this once.
This afternoon, we found him sprawled out on the family room floor, as if caught mid-sunbeam. He was not a young cat by any means, so this wasn't entirely surprising, but he was not the one we were expecting to lose first. It looks like whatever happened was swift and painless. I took my last chance to pet him and snuggle him and say "Ha ha I'm giving you pets and there's nothing you can do about it." And then we put him in a box to wait for the vet's to be open tomorrow. I love you, Dick Kitty, and Tennessee will be that much less joyful without you.
EDIT: Oh yeah, he looked like Toothless the dragon when he smiled.
MORE: He was frequently fearless, taking no shit from anyone/thing, although he also frequently forgot that he'd been declawed. So if he had beef with another cat, he'd smack them two or three times quickly and then look at his paw like "God damn it," and beat a tactical retreat. This was one of the many reasons we didn't want him to go outside. And that made outside the one place he desperately needed to go, because if the monkeys say 'no' then it must be someplace pretty awesome. But usually when he did get out he'd run as far as the corner of the house and start eating grass. And if I was super casual, I could just walk up behind him, pick him up, and bring him back in.
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