Forewarning: this isn't going to be a rant. It's more personal than that.
I moved to my current house about 3 years ago. There was a friendly couple across the street, with two cats. They also fed a neighborhood cat that I referred to as "the ragamuffin." He was very scraggly, and apparently, very old. Mike and Darcy, my neighbors, said he had been renting his house for 7 years. Mike's sister lived in the house before that for 7 years. And during all this time, the ragamuffin was around. Never belonging to anyone in particular, but mostly eating the food that Mike and Darcy provided. He slept under their back deck.
A year later Mike and Darcy began having some marital problems and Darcy moved out. Darcy was the animal lover. She left behind her two beautiful cats, and of course, the ragamuffin was still around. Mike made a notional effort to feed these animals, but not much more. Whether it was because they were a representation of Dara, or because he just didn't care about cats, I don't know. I began taking care of all three of them.
Darcy's two cats began to live on my patio. I don't know what their real names were, but I called the white one "Ellie" and the tabby "Alexis." Darcy would come to pick something up at her old house once every 3 months, stop by mine and say that she was working on a way to come back for Ellie and Alex. About 10 months later she did. Without any notice. I just had a note on my door. I wasn't too pleased, because they had become my pets.
I was still feeding the ragamuffin when he came over and didn't find a meal elsewhere. Somewhere during this period Mike moved out, and of course, he made no provision for the ragamuffin. The ragamuffin began eating at my house more frequently, but he preferred to continue sleeping under the deck across the street. Eventually I started going to the deck across the street every morning to put out food and water for him. He had the house to himself.
I began to call him "Sami". He was a black cat with long hair. A white racoon mask on his face and a broad white stripe running from his chin down to his belly and below. Although he had matted fur from living outside, he was very cute from the neck up. And very sweet.
I started thinking I might like to have Sami living on my patio. I began luring him to my patio with food and water...and this, of course, saved me from going across the street every day to feed him. Still, he returned "home" each night and slept under the deck. On cold nights I'd retrieve him and put him in my garage. He never liked that, and sometimes hid from me. He'd rather sleep in 25 degree weather than indoors.
Slowly he began to spend more time with me, sleeping in my garden during the day, and under the deck across the street at night. When I'd come home from work, he would hear the garage door and come across the street for feeding and brushing. I bought a wire brush to comb out his mats, and he would roll on his side begging for the brush. He had a raspy old meow, like you'd expect from an old tom.
This went on for about 15 months...until Christmas Day, when an already slow 15+ year old cat slowed to about 1/4 of his normal speed. He stopped eating. And now, he wanted to sleep in my kitchen. Uncharacteristic, and a sure sign that his time had run out.
This morning I did for Sami what I hope someone will do for me when I reach that stage. Painless and five seconds. I then buried him across the street -- at his home -- with the wire brush he loved.
It didn't seem right that Sami should disappear so quietly. Here's a small animal who lived by his wits on the streets for 15 years. Who knows how many times he went hungry. How many times he was kicked by some cruel teenager, or chased by a neighborhood dog. How many times he got caught in a Florida afternoon rainstorm, or slept out in the cold. How many times he hurt himself in the ordinary course of business, like the rest of us, and soldiered through.
I often thought he must have been hit by a car at least once, because I've never seen an animal so careful about crossing the street. He would wait. And wait. The coast had to be very clear before he'd cross. Then he'd fast-walk -- he couldn't really run anymore -- the shortest distance to his destination. Never even a close call during any of my observations.
You'd think that sort of hardship would make him wary of people, or animals. Yet, he wasn't particularly shy around people or the other cats in the neighborhood. He was wary, but did not panic. Best of all, he would purr as soon as he saw me. Before I even touched him.
He was a tough little guy, but very sweet. I'm going to miss seeing him when I come home from work and brushing him before I go to bed.
So long Sami.
