Our little ship’s cat died last week.
I still hear her everywhere and see her everywhere. Our day was so full of cat rituals: sunbathing and petting session in the morning, making sure she ate a few bites every few hours, waking her during the day so she’d be tired at night, sitting out in the cockpit during the evenings to ‘air’ the cat, then down to the saloon for ‘couchtime’–she’d already hop on the sofa and wait for us to get cuddled from both sides while we were watching some telly series. We’ve never been on the boat without her (just a few weekends when we had the boat in Croatia, but we always took her along for sailing holidays) and now Pitufa feels horribly empty without her.
She was right in the centre of our lives for a long time. Keeping the cat safe and happy was a priority for 21 years: our choice of houses/flats in Austria, Sweden and the Uk, the decision to go cruising instead of other forms of travelling, the destinations we could sail to, the fact that we could never leave her alone with the boat, our itinerary to keep her ‘cool’and comfy–it’s become second nature to see the world through her eyes, what she’d like and dislike.
In a house in Europe with a vet to help with her aches, a pet shop to supply her with different brands and flavours every day (even though we brought bags full of expensive food from Austria and ordered a big package from the US last year she just sniffed the cans I still have left, not enough variety on the menu…) and an extra room (preferably sound proof to give us some rest at night) we could probably have nursed her for another year. Or she may have had a stroke next week–we’ll never know.
On the other hand if we had stayed in Europe we would have both worked long hours, she would have spent most of the days alone at home instead of having us constantly around, she would have long starved without me around to coax her into into eating tiny morsels during the day, she might have been run over by a car years ago–who knows what could or would have been.
I just keep telling myself that she got more love and attention over the last 21 years than 99% of all other cats on the globe and probably most children as well (given the fact that kids grow up and move out at some point). She filled our days with joy, love and purrs in return. Brrrreeeow, mrrrrah, meeep, she had a whole array of little sounds and I can’t believe I’ll never hear her again. She turned high maintenance towards the end, but she gave us so much during her long life.
Leeloo leaves a gaping cat-shaped hole in our lives.