July 10th, 2006. Four years ago. That’s the day poor Little Willy met his demise. He was just a few days more than eighteen months old.
Willy -- short for Wilhelm -- was the youngest of six kittens in our litter. He had a deformed left front leg at birth. I don’t know why.
That handicap, together with being the youngest and smallest sibling, meant that he often lost out in the nipple scrum. Sometimes Mom fed him separately. Lots of times Mrs. Peacock fed him with a tiny bottle that Dr. Kindly gave her. Mary Bloom and Catherine Bloom used to come over and spend extra time with him. That’s how I got to know Catherine.
As we got older he figured out how to get around on three legs, holding his left paw up, and limping about. He could go where he wanted, but not as fast as the rest of us. When Mrs. Peacock had treats on offer he would be the last to show up, but she always held some for him.
We teased him sometimes. Missi, Sissi, and Loki would sneak up on him and nip his tail, then run away. Of course, he couldn’t catch them. “Willy’s a gimp!” they would taunt.
Willy was determined to do everything that other cats do. Unfortunately, that included crossing Dogwood Street in front of Zemlinsky’s at the exact moment Miss Pringle made the left turn from Fourteenth in her Prius. Dr. Kindly said Willy likely never knew what hit him.
He’s buried at Kitty Rest Haven, next to his sister Miss Adventure. I went over there today and left some catnip.
On the way back I checked in with Dad. He looks a little better. Mom was there. She groomed him, which helped.
Back home I spent most of the afternoon gazing out the dining room window. People think cats gaze out windows to watch the birds. That’s not true, nobody gives a crap about the stupid birds. When you see us gazing, we’re remembering family and friends who crossed the river. That’s cat-speak for passed away. Died. Kicked the bucket.
We don’t say that so-and-so “went over the rainbow.” Rainbows are spectral projections caused by reflection, refraction, and dispersion of light in water droplets. You can’t go “over” a rainbow. Cats are down-to-earth creatures, we would never say something that silly and sentimental. Only fake cats on social media say that.
No, when a cat dies, they cross the river.
All for now.