Snick

Well, Snickerdoodle the Ancient Cat did pass away in his sleep after I left on Sunday-- he hung on into the afternoon, but by nightfall had stopped breathing. Mom and Dad had moved him out to the back porch, where it was warm and sunny, and petted him and talked to him as they sat out there, but eventually he stopped responding to them.

When I left Sunday morning I kissed his head and petted him a little, and he looked at me, but I couldn't tell if he was pleased.

We're not positive how old Snick was. We'd have to look it up again. We looked over the holidays and found a photo of him dated 1990, wherein he appeared full-grown, so we must've gotten him in 1989, or maybe even 1998. Which makes him approximately 130 in cat years, so I guess he didn't go before his time.

When we got him he was probably 4 months old, had huge feet, and had been named "Bo Jackson", though he didn't answer to it yet. We immediately rechristened him Snickerdoodle after a favorite type of cookie. (All our animals had food names except Tiger the horse, who was too old to be renamed when we got him.)

As a young cat he was a rambunctious disciple of our elderly statesman, Cupcake, a dignified older cat who was an avid hunter and not much of a cuddler. Snick loved to be petted, loved to play, loved to lie in the sun, and was a great sport about letting four preteen girls dress him in doll clothes and put him into their baby carriage. (Cupcake did Not Tolerate such shenanigans, so we were very pleased by Snick's willingness to go along.)

Snick matured into a big fellow, topping out around 15 pounds, stocky but never obese. He hunted, defended the house from interloping strays, and got into countless fights, though he remained beautiful and friendly when his hair grew back from being shaved for his wounds to be stitched. His ears were a bit nicked, but he maintained his coat beautifully. He was shameless, begging for treats and whoring for laps, and though he grew rather grumpy and stumpy and particular in his old age, he only ever growled and lashed his tail, never bit or scratched, and was always very ready to purr at the slightest gesture of appeasement. In his old age, when my parents took in a very shy feral kitten named Ghost, she would run away from all humans, but loved Snick. She would play with his tail, which he would lash when he got annoyed; the more she played, the more he lashed, the happier she got. One morning Mom came downstairs to find Snick fast asleep in the chair with his tail tucked in, his face tucked down, and a toy mouse perched squarely across the top of his shoulders, where Ghost had obviously left it. Patient old soul that he was, he never smacked her, not once.

He was a fixture of my childhood and young adulthood, always around somewhere, snoozing or patrolling or eating or just watching. I know it was his time and I am fortunate to have been able to bid him farewell, but it is still hard to know he won't be there next time I go home.

So, goodbye to a good cat.

I'm not on my own computer so I don't have my pictures, but here are some I already had online:
http://www.bridget.kelly.name/Pictures/fiona/fiona-Images/47.jpg
Snick with Fiona, sleeping.
http://www.bridget.kelly.name/Pictures/melrose/melrose-Images/2.jpg
Snick guards the front door.
http://www.bridget.kelly.name/Pictures/fiona/fiona-Images/1.jpg
Snick with Fiona again, at Christmas. Grandma Kelly is being her adorable self in this photo too-- it must be about 1999, since Gram passed away in 2002...
http://www.bridget.kelly.name/Pictures/fiona/fiona-Images/23.jpg
I told you he was shameless. Somehow all of these photos have Fiona in them. I should probably call her. She takes these sorts of things hard, and she hadn't been home in some time.

I'm going to get the recipe for the cookies he was named for, and make a batch.