Today I got the call that my cat, Slick (the left hand cat in this picture), missing since Saturday night, had been found in the neighbor's backyard Sunday morning, dead, half buried in the garden by some animal (?). I had posted some signs on the mailboxes around the neighborhood just last night and was going to visit the Humane Society today. Now I guess I don't need to.
He was a good cat, a lovely cat, a sweet cat. A total pest to our other cat, a willing cuddle toy to Delia, an utter gomer with no sense of balance. He was a good, good kitty, and he didn't deserve a violent end.
I still can't really believe he's gone, I guess because he just vanished into the night and I never got to see him to say goodbye. By the time I gave up waiting for him to turn up and went out and put up the signs, the neighbor had long since disposed of the remains.
O Slicky, we hardly knew ye. Rest in peace with your old friend Beany. Tell Grandma we miss her. I will miss you sleeping on the back of the couch with your tail wrapped around my neck, and Delia will miss wrestling with you. I'm afraid Wilbur won't miss you at all but she's pretty malevolent and her opinions don't count here.
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