He came into our lives at the end of October 1998 and was struck and killed by a car near the end of September 2007.
So, for very nearly nine years, he was our pet.
C-fer.
C-fer Cat.
A silly name, I know. But then, C-fer was just that kind of cat: Silly. Funny. Sometimes moody. Always affectionate.
You know - a cat.
A cat who was great at catching mice but had the nasty habit of eating the top halves of them and leaving the rest for me to dispose of. A cat who was great at catching birds even though we put a bell on his collar so that he couldn’t. It didn’t matter: he learned to move so that the bell didn’t ring. We tried two bells – didn’t matter. C-fer was nothing if not determined. Finally we just took the bells off.
A nice neighbour saw what happened: a red car zoomed around the corner and struck him. The neighbour said there’s no way the driver didn’t know what happened but the driver didn’t stop. The nice neighbour put C-fer in a box and returned him to us.
There wasn’t a mark on him. I think he died instantly. But then, I need to think that.
He was still warm when we wrapped him in a shroud and buried him in the back-yard with a toy mouse to keep him company. Trish put a stone on his grave; I scratched his name on the stone. We all cried.
Good-bye C-fer. Thank you for being my friend.
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