In Memory Of Snooty

~In Memory of Snooty ~

~ 3 November 2002 – 3 December, 2004 ~

I look at your Certificate of Sterilisation dated 26 May, 2003. Today I’m searching for clues, facts about you and your life to share.

You are listed as a Surrender Cat by the RSPCA. Truth is you were special from the day I laid eyes on you. One of three female kittens born, 3 November, 2002. Anyone familiar with you would know you would never surrender!

You were the rascally kitten standing aloof from the litter. You had a snooty kind of, don’t touch me attitude and I thought you were in a bad mood. Looking through photos today confirms, in my mind, as loving and accepting of our cuddles as you were, the name really does suit.

I almost called you Sooty. They are everywhere. You are an individual; special. Snooty seemed appropriate. Not only because of your demeanour but also your colour you were the superior, snobby little puss.

Yesterday you didn’t come for breakfast. Not really unusual; you were roaming further each day on escapades for solitude, excitement and the occasional takeaway. Hunting always your thing!

Today you missed breakfast again and I called and called. You didn’t come. I finished attending the rest of the animals and for some reason I felt compelled to water a certain section of the garden dry from increasing temperatures over the past week, or was it something calling me; fate. As I went around the garden I spotted you under the roses.

I found you near the clothesline. You and I spent so many wonderful sunny days. You, lazing on the ground under the roses, shiny, unconcerned and me daydreaming as I pegged out clothes. I thought you were resting or maybe unwell. I came closer and realised the horrible truth.

You were stiff, your body swollen and I noticed your eyes. One open wide and glazed, the other half closed and foggy. Your mouth showing teeth slightly open as though you caught something and enjoyed a fight. I felt so bad I didn’t even get a chance to help you live. You died alone.

You found a nice orange rose to sleep under for a while on your journey to some place else.

Perhaps you were on your way to the Orchard to sit in your favourite spot between the gate and the corner fence post. Early in the morning you’d look from the long grass in the orchard, watch the pretty birds and catch an occasional mouse. If you were really lucky you would hazard a rabbit kitten and you’d eat its head and leave the body on my front step; respect. Or, maybe you’d take a look across the property down to the sparkling dam. It glistens pretty at this time of the morning; sunrise. But you never were one for gazing out over the property. You caught me so many times. Instead you would sit quietly for hours willing the beautiful rosella to come a little closer. The true optimistic heart of a hunter!

Yesterday I noticed feathers in the front yard around our house. I wondered which culprit did that and, honestly, Snooty, your name came to mind.

I dug your burial hole this morning. I called my husband at work to share our sad news. Upset he couldn’t be at your funeral, he wished you well and Good Journey.

Funny, in a weird unhappy way, digging a hole to bury a favourite pet is quite an enlightening task. I found myself digging and not thinking, and digging and wondering, if the hole would be big enough, or comfortable enough for you. I guess that’s why we bury our dead. It gives us time to grieve. To think, to remember, to cry and that’s what I did.

I stopped crying not because my heart healed or because I forgot you. My tears stopped because I couldn’t see to dig and my hair annoyed me sticking to my face with the tears. I lent back, balanced the shovel on my body, took off my glasses and wiped the tears on my shirt sleeve. I pushed my hair away from my face and put my glasses back on. I then got serious towards the dig.

I caught myself thinking. I believe you may be making way for some special soul. Secretly I hope you’re the entrance for my own son or daughter. Seventeen years of wishing. Perhaps you’ll go to the place where Angel Baby’s come from and ask for a human soul to share my wonderful life, bring joy and heal my broken heart.

Snooty this isn’t about me. It’s about you. I could talk about you for hours but that would do little to bring you back. You were special, my companion and always alive in my heart.

Sleep well, pleasant dreams and see you in the next life.

I’ll always remember you. Good Journey.

You Snooty little Regent!

Zakgirl.

Notice: This article is copyrighted material. Reproduction of brief snippets of this article with a link to this site are permitted, but it may not be reproduced in full anywhere without the written permission of Leanne Johnston at zakthewriter.com