Well ... I don’t know where to begin …
I just went to the bathroom and no one yowled to get in, no one attacked my pulled-down underwear and no one jumped in the sink waiting for me to turn on the water (‘cuz we all know running water is better than water that’s been standing in your dish). No; I had absolute privacy this time; and I cried.
Hank passed away last night; sleeping in my sweater, which was where he went after checking GrammaStamper’s bathroom activities. It was as if he had a bad dream and yowled against the unseen demon … then was gone.
I’ve had cats all my life. A dozen or more and GrammaStamper has had none. She asked if it’s always like this and I replied “it never gets easier”. And it never does.
Hank was born “Cinnamon” and he told us that his moniker was ‘wussy’ so we suggested “Hank” and he approved. Hank, not Henry, was impetuous and irreverent and totally frustrating at times. He was impatient and demanding and exceptionally affectionate; to everyone, as long as you weren’t a child, dog or other unfamiliar animal. He would enter the Sear’s saleslady’s jacket and inspect any purse he was unfamiliar with, much to the chagrin of folks not accustomed to curious cats. If you didn’t like cats, he was sure to be on your shoulders trying to explain to you the benefits of felinity.
Hank took on this blog when GrammaStamper had her knees replaced. He did the best he could to bring a smile to all during a difficult time. I think he did just fine even though I had clean-up chores after his party.
Some might say I write this for cathartic purposes while others might say I write this for personal gratification but I write this for Hank; a fine friend and, although only a pet, worthy of a notation in our digital world.
Nice knowin’ ya.
We’ll miss you.