Bruce the Cat died last night, and I found & buried him tonight.
Shortly after our neighbor moved into her new house in Moncure in 1998, her cat came to visit. (That cat, I might add, was the closest to Retarda-kitty I’ve ever met in real life). R left out some food for him, thinking it was a stray. He went home but a black & white tomcat decided he’d like the free food, so he moved onto the porch. After realized he wasn’t leaving I named him Bruce ‘cause he looked like a Bruce.
Bruce was most likely a house pet that went feral. When he moved onto our porch, he was dull, and missing teeth. He didn’t wash often, and loved a dustbath.
When we were packing and moving to Pittsboro, he made himself scarce. We almost left him behind, and were afraid we’d lost him. *JUST* before we locked the house in Moncure for the last time he showed up and let R catch him and move him to the new house.
He promptly disappeared for three days after the move. Once he came home, he spent the last five years keeping the lizard and mouse population under control. And leaving the occasional present for us for keeping his bowl full and giving him a warm place to sleep.
The last few years, his coat has gotten softer, glossier, and he was taking care of himself. He was still short teeth, but it didnt’ slow him down a bit.
He’s buried out back, with a rosebush planted over him as a marker. I buried him where he died, under a cedar tree, after R and I said goodbye.
Godspeed my friend. You’ll be missed.