I am grateful for Stinky. You didn’t know Stinky; not many did. He was a member of our family, Samantha’s kitty that she rescued from between the big heavy plate glass doors of her apartment building in Guelph about eight years ago. Stinky was one of those guys that the moment you met him, you knew he was your lifelong friend. We don’t come across many friends like that in our lifetime, but when we do, we stop and take note and we are grateful.
Stinky was a generous fellow. He would share his bed or any bed with you. It may have been just a small share but sharing is relative. He would give you a portion of the bed and then curl up at your knees to comfort you. The only stipulation was that you shouldn’t move unless absolutely necessary, unless your life was in peril, otherwise don’t move. If you were on the telephone and perhaps running out of conversation pieces he would leap on to your chest and knead his claws into your chest to get comfy and then he would purr as loudly as possible into the telephone so you wouldn’t have to do all the talking. Such a kind helpful fellow.
If you settled down on the couch and put your feet up Stinky would think this an appropriate time to go outside and he would meow until you got up and that way he could keep you from being labeled as a lazy oaf. Selfless.
When you tried to walk downstairs, Stinky would wind himself around your feet to show you the way. Some people may confuse this as an attempt to have you fall to your death, but that’s just not so. Many hallways are poorly lit and if he was at your feet he could guarantee you were going in the right direction. His food dish was downstairs so he knew the way without hesitation. So considerate.
Had Stinky been a member of your family he would have meowed very early in the morning to be let out and to have you start your day at the appropriate time, at say 4:30 a.m. He was an advocate of the early to rise makes a cat healthy, wealthy and wise. What’s good for a cat must surely be good for humans. Such a good example was Stinky.
If you were working on your computer he would lie across the keyboard so you could rest your hands and avoid carpal tunnel syndrome. He was generous to a fault.
He would have played hide-and-seek with you behind the patio door drapes and leave his tail sticking out to give you a fighting chance. A fair fellow indeed. Then he would race around the house like a mad-man to help distract your from your worries.
But you won’t know Stinky now, won’t get the chance to call him family. He died this week; a run in with a car. I could have kept him in, kept him safe, out of harm’s way, but Stinky loved thinking he was a jungle cat, prowling and hunting and using his most effective stealth methods. He hid in trees, napped in the flower bed, chased mice and occasionally caught one or two, but found them of very little taste.
Our life feels empty without him, sadly scarred with a permanent wound. We miss all the things that Stinky was, but we are so very grateful he was our family and I’m so grateful that Samantha shared him with me for these past two years. I was better for having known Stinky.
Happy hunting, Stinky.