The inevitable happened today.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
He was over 15 years old and had lived a charmed life for a cat. Although he never had offspring, he had a family that he loved and that loved him.
He was a hunter, a birdwatcher, and he loved to show his dominance in the pack.
His name was Pumpkin after his “pumpkin color.” His nicknames included “Buddy,’ Pumpers,” Pumpalicious,” and recently “old man kitty.”
He stood his ground when we adopted a beagle. He stood his ground when we brought home a “kitty” sister. Pumpkin loved to make sure the “new cat” knew it was his house. He was outgoing in a cat sort of way yet was aloof and independent at the same time.
He perfected the art of training all his human pack to do his bidding.
And he kept us on our toes. For many spring days, he was sequestered because he would find rabbit dens and bring us a nightly offering. Before we caught on to this, my wife had gone into the bathroom at 5 in the morning without turning on the light. Seconds later I heard a scream.
Entering the bathroom and turning on the light, I saw my wife standing on top of the toilet seat and a frightened baby rabbit at the base of the commode. Pumpkin had brought us a live house guest. This was the beginning of his yearly quarantine. I can still hear him voicing his displeasure at being grounded inside. He could yowl with the best of them.
Pumpkin’s journey through the circle of life was long and noteworthy.
He will be sorely missed.
READ MORE: I didn’t think I would be digging an animal grave today
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