Cat-less

My cat, Ice, passed away sometime between midnight and 9am today. He was nearly 18 years old. We've known the end was coming, and when I checked on him at midnight I suspected he wouldn't last the night.

I am now cat-less, for the first time in about 22 years.

My son has had a dog in the house for about a year now, so it's unlikely we'll have another cat for some time.

I've only had three cats in the past 22 years. First, Mrs. Malaprop, an orange tabby given to me by a friend in Los Angeles who was moving and couldn't bring her along. Mrs. M was joined by Bug, a grey and white kitten who was a stray at my ankles and wouldn't go away. He was barely bigger than my fist and was wearing a flea coller so tight I was surprised he could breathe. No one claimed him, despite my posters trying to reunite him with whomever put the collar on him. He was covered in fleas and he was pesky to Mrs. M, hence the name, Bug.

When Mrs. M passed on, Bug was the only cat in the house for quite some time. But as I was planning to go on tour, I wanted the cat to have a playmate, so I adopted Ice (originally named Ice Cream) from a woman who rescued stray and abused cats. Ice was a mostly white with grey streaks cat.

I don't think Bug and Ice ever got along as well as I had hoped (ask me sometime about Ice's change when Bug died). Bug was put to sleep three or four years ago, so Ice had some time to be the dominant pet ... and he was dominant. He put the black-lab in his place more than once.

Goodbye, Ice. Goodbye cats.