My furry little buddy has passed away. Behemoth, how I will miss you.
I
know that you haven't been well for awhile, and we did all that we
could without going to invasive, painful extremes. You put up with me
shoving that syringe full of medicine down your throat twice a day when
you weighed only 4 pounds. You impressed everyone at the vet's office
with your spunk and spirit - no one was willing to count you out or give
up on you and they all knew who you were. We all knew that your body
was fragile, but your spirit was huge. And no one more so than
Bogart...
You
raised Bogart from puppyhood - made him into a cat-loving (and
respecting) dog. I will always be grateful for your input into his
education. And I will never forget one of the funniest things that I
have ever seen in my life - when Bogart was about 3 months old and you
were trying to teach him some lesson with your mighty paw, which got
stuck in his mighty moustache and then seeing the two of you run at top
speed through the apartment. You meowing like crazy as you were pulled
along, claws caught in the 'stache, him barking and running in all
directions. I'm sure you didn't think it was as hilarious as Klaus and I
did, but I thank you for that incredible laugh.
And
I thank you for your calmness, your kindness, and your willingness to
greet any and everyone who entered the door of anyplace we have lived.
The way you would sleep on my hip after Klaus passed away. Your
insistence on a certain brand of indoor dry cat food. The way you could
jump straight up in the air with the greatest of ease. That incredibly
long, soft tail.
It
was an agonizing time in your last few days - but I think we are all
happy that you were allowed to pass away at home. You left us while we
were asleep, I hope that you just went to sleep too. Bogart kissed you
and tried to nudge you awake after you were gone, and then he wouldn't
let me put you into the box to take you to be cremated. He barked and
barked and guarded you. The other kitties and he all got a chance to
kiss you goodbye - and they all knew.
Many
people who didn't know you assumed that you must be a giant, fat cat
with a name like Behemoth. But of course, nothing could be further from
the truth. You were not named for your size but more for your
attitude, after the character in the novel, The Master and Margarita:
An enormous (said to be as large as a
hog) black cat, capable of standing on two legs and talking. He has a
penchant for
chess,
vodka and
pistols. In Russian, "Begemot". The word itself means
hippopotamus in Russian as well as the Biblical creature. A demon in disguise, able to take human form for short time. (from Wikipedia)
Yes,
you were not a black cat, but a grey puss in white boots. A gutsy
street cat, you wandered into our lives as a kitten with teeth like a
hillbilly vampire and every type of worm that a cat can have (and
probably some that cats really, really shouldn't have). A tail as long
and sinuous as a whip. And the insistence that an entire slice of pizza
is a fitting meal for a cat.
You
were Klaus' favorite - he always said, "This is my cat". And you know
he didn't like cats (on the outside). Many hot afternoons were spent in
Los Angeles with Klaus sleeping on the couch on his side and you draped
over his hip like a kilt, front paws fully akimbo, both of you snoring.
We will miss you tremendously. Sleep well, sweet boy.
Lulu
