Sylvester in Memorium pt 2
They found the lifeless kitty body in the ditch in front of the house. The cat had just been taken to see the vet a few weeks before, and seemed to be in good health.
I had been over the day before, and noted that Sylvester wasn't around. A squirrel in a tree was meowing in an odd way that day. My dad came outside with me and listened to the weird rodent. We hollered and walked up to his tree, but the squirrel wouldn't budge, and kept up his rhythmic meowing.
They buried Sylvester in the back yard; in the part of the yard where we've buried all our pets for over 40 years. There are all manner of animals buried there. Among them are birds, opossums, rabbits, raccoons, squirrels, along with the more expected dogs and cats. Not all of our lost pets were buried back there. Some just went missing. Mostly cats.
Outdoor cats have a rough life. Every dog in creation wants to kill 'em. A friend of mind told me a horror story of witnessing his cat being mauled to death by a pack of roving dogs. Even the littlest dog in the pack got a bite or two. Sylvester didn't go that way, though. There wasn't a mark on the cat's body.
When the job of burying the cat was over, another cat of my parents' named 'Tibby' began to waller around on the grave. She pawed at the freshly turned soil, and meowed. After a while, Tibby began to jump around playfully, and swat at something unseen, as if she were a kitten again. My parents said it was strange, as Tibby is a very conservative cat by nature. She only comes out of hiding usually to eat.
I really liked Sylvester. Sylvester was a friendly cat that never made a fuss, bugged you or had an attitude. If you rubbed Sylvester on the head, you would get an appreciative purr, and perhaps a meow, but none of the clawing, tempermental crap you get with most cats. You could tell Sylvester had a rough life before coming to my parents' house. The lispy meow I heard when I first saw the cat was a pretty good indication.
I had been over the day before, and noted that Sylvester wasn't around. A squirrel in a tree was meowing in an odd way that day. My dad came outside with me and listened to the weird rodent. We hollered and walked up to his tree, but the squirrel wouldn't budge, and kept up his rhythmic meowing.
They buried Sylvester in the back yard; in the part of the yard where we've buried all our pets for over 40 years. There are all manner of animals buried there. Among them are birds, opossums, rabbits, raccoons, squirrels, along with the more expected dogs and cats. Not all of our lost pets were buried back there. Some just went missing. Mostly cats.
Outdoor cats have a rough life. Every dog in creation wants to kill 'em. A friend of mind told me a horror story of witnessing his cat being mauled to death by a pack of roving dogs. Even the littlest dog in the pack got a bite or two. Sylvester didn't go that way, though. There wasn't a mark on the cat's body.
When the job of burying the cat was over, another cat of my parents' named 'Tibby' began to waller around on the grave. She pawed at the freshly turned soil, and meowed. After a while, Tibby began to jump around playfully, and swat at something unseen, as if she were a kitten again. My parents said it was strange, as Tibby is a very conservative cat by nature. She only comes out of hiding usually to eat.
I really liked Sylvester. Sylvester was a friendly cat that never made a fuss, bugged you or had an attitude. If you rubbed Sylvester on the head, you would get an appreciative purr, and perhaps a meow, but none of the clawing, tempermental crap you get with most cats. You could tell Sylvester had a rough life before coming to my parents' house. The lispy meow I heard when I first saw the cat was a pretty good indication.
posted by Tonewah at 3:19 PM
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