dear darling Micky died today 14th February 2011. He had gone into the bathroom overnight and lay on the rug in there; he drank some water and tried to eat a little breakfast but he was so light, so very light, so much weight lost over the past few days. He went out one morning last week, as usual, right after breakfast, to the front yard. Within minutes he was back, most unusual as he generally made his way around to the cat flap. He was different somehow, his tail stuck out and he was walking stiffly. I could find no blood, no bits of him that made him wince when touched. I don't know if a fox grabbed him, one of the neighbour cats (although Mick was friendly with everything in a laid back unostentatious way), or he was clipped by a car. But he became more and more quiet over the past few days. And died whilst I was at work today. He had had a special hug and a whispered Goodbye this morning.
Memories:
Micky as a kitten. I thought he was a girl and called him Kitty. He came from Pitchford village, my only cat who's not a foundling. Sammy had been an only cat for a year. Sammy and I were canoodling on the bed when Sam's eyes opened wide as he gazed over my shoulder. Baby Micky had been sleeping under the pillow and crept out to see what we were doing. I felt so .... dirty
Mick would leave home for two or three days as a teenager. I know where he went. To the house on the hairpin bend of Cunnery Road where he would socialise with Mrs Justin-Evans, who wore perfume. He'd drift home in his own time, looking well fed and smelling of perfume. Sometimes he would chirrup at me as I passed that house on the way home from the pub at night, and then escort me home the long way (up the road rather than via the field!)
Micky loved to go for walks in company; he trained me and Sammy to go with him round the Rectory Wood on summer evenings. There was a certain route we had to follow (and along this route his ashes will shortly be scattered); he and Sam would race toward certain trees and see who could claw their way furthest up the tree. On the way home they would scamper down the Rectory Field, zigzagging in and out of the bracken. It was Fun, for them as well as me.
His most recent long walk was with me and Daphne a couple of years ago. we set off for a walk around the wood; I looked back toward the gate and there was Mick, wondering if it was too late to join us. He calmly accompanied us all the way, including greeting dogs and their owners without fear.
More recently he spent each evening on my lap impeding my typing on the pc - or he would curl up alongside the pc thus managing to impede any use of the mouse. I always thought he had no sense of humour - but who knows.
Mick Jagger - my cat. Fearless and devoted; cuddly and purry; swaggering and strutting. Sixteen years of tolerant and cosy companionship. I miss you. x
