Last weekend my cousin’s 21 year old cat passed away. My aunt was visiting at the time and had to put up with Spock gambolling around cheerfully. Whiskey was more than just a cat – she’s older their their youngest daughter (they joke that the heirarchy of the family is based on age) and even I only barely remember her as a kitten. I have a hazy memory of being at my other aunt’s house, where her cat had had a litter of kittens under the kitchen sideboard. Apparently Ding crawled into the space as well and gave all the kittens conjuntivitis. Although 4 years younger than me, Whisk always gave the impression of being more mature than me, and seemed to view all of us as little kids who though irritating she’d tolerate for a while. And she could speak – I remember being amazed when me and my nan were in the playroom at my cousins’ house, and Whisk walked in. Nan said hello to her conversationally, and Whisk replied with a crystal clear “Hello” before going about her business. Nan was so used to this she didn’t react. I however was just pointing with my mouth open! My cats are conversational, but they can’t actually pronouce the letter H.
Obviously, despite an air of invincibility and permenance of course Whiskey couldn’t live forever. However it does feel like the family as a whole has lost more than just a cat, and that feeling’s no doubt more profound for her immediate family.
As if that wasn’t enough, my cousin had to go on holiday a few days after losing Whiskey. While she was away, her rabbit who was a few months or so older than Peanut had to be put down. Benji was a house rabbit in his later life also, and my cousin bred him herself. He’s the last of her herd of bunnies. All very sad. Benji was an old man too, but two animals in less than a week? A little harsh. I’ll have to have words.