Be-Bop, RIP. 1994-2006

That photograph was taken last night. Be-bop was my first cat after I left home. In college I worked for a flamboyant woman prone to fits of rage and fierce moods, but she did some nice things for me. One of which was to take me to the animal shelter and pay for the adoption of a kitten. He was the runt of the litter but the most persistent in climbing to the front of the cage, and so I took him. His ears were enormous on his tiny head. Other parts of him were tiny as well. My boyfriend and I thought he was a girl at first until my friend Sarah used her uncanny knowledge of cat genitals to set us straight. The feminine "Tayla" was quickly replaced by "Be-bop"a nickname that derived from my boyfriend's family somewhere.

Be-bop went with me after the boyfriend and I split up, and lived with me in a couple of less than perfect situations. When my mom and i, both newly single, moved in together again for six months, Be-bop and the late Dylan--a border collie/australian shepherd mix--were mortal enemies. A fence was erected to keep them apart in the hallway. Just as I was moving out at last to move to Santa Rosa to be closer to the man who is now my husband, they had crossed the species divide to become best friends. Unable to tear them apart--and frankly a little glad to be free of the responsibility--Be-bop became my mother's cat.

When my Mom met her now husband Paul, Be-bop quickly made his allegiances clear. He was Paul's cat, end of discussion, and would fall slavishly at Paul's feet to be loved while sneering in disdain at the rest of our attempts.

After the ferocious wild kitten Mojo joined the family, followed by special-needs, distemper baby Otis, Be-bop became a grumpy old curmudgeon, wandering the house muttering under his breath and taking out his frustrations with the fellow cats on his scratching box. He spent most of the last few years outside to find some peace.

He was never a cuddly cat, but he had character and pride and was the best hunter I ever saw, slaughtering (and yes, that's the proper word choice) birds, lizards and the occasional mole and even squirrel! over the years. He was a good cat, and he will be sorely missed.

Last night as I visited my mom, when it became evident that he was not doing well and that he shouldn't be allowed to suffer any longer, we had to keep pulling little Otis off of him. Otis, the youngest cat in my mom's household, kept running up to him, and climbing on top of him, wrapping his little orange paws around Be-bop's back, as if he could keep him in the world a little longer, or stop him from hurting.

I fed Be-bop his last meal of raw hamburger.

Our animals all share parts of our lives, and when they go, they take parts of our history with them.

JPR