Current mood:	sad
Entry tags:	cats, home, sad, vermont

My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today.
Handsome James was one of three born in Pepper's second litter with The Pirate King of Pleasant Street. Pepper, a dainty seal point Siamese, twice escaped to mate with the one-eyed, ratty-eared brute before my mother finally got her fixed, abandoning dreams of raising purebreads. We know The Pirate King was the father, because every single one of Pepper's many kittens came out looking exactly like him; there wasn't a single thing to suggest their Siamese maternity, except when they opened their mouths to let out the trademark Siamese caterwaul.

I named him Handsome James, because that's exactly what he was; sleek, black, strong, with yellow-green eyes and an affable face. He spent most of his waking hours patrolling the neighborhood, eventually inheriting his father's title by the ancient rite of combat. He likely fathered plenty bastards before he, too, was fixed, almost as an afterthought. He would sometimes disappear for days, only to show up in the backyard with a mouse, smelling of skunk, or with a gash in his ear: trophies from his many escapades.



Sometimes he would march in, eat a can of catfood, promptly vomit it back up again, and march back outside, satisfied. Other times, he'd chase around Annabelle, my mother's chihuahua, or decide that the best place to nap was on top of your sleeping face in bed. Whenever he left the house on one of his many adventures, he would answer my mother in a call-and-response that continued until he disappeared around the corner.

"Here you go, Handesome James." 
"Mrrow!"
"Don't go in the road!"
"Mrrow!"
"Have fun!"
"Mrrow!"
"It's supposed to be cold out tonight!"
"Mrrow!"
"Goodnight!"
"Mrrow!"
"See you later!"
"Mrrow!"
"Okay!"
".....Mrrow!"

He'd been gone for nearly three weeks when my mother found his body underneath our front porch today, already far along the process of rejoining the soil that fed the grass he loved to hide in, stalking voles.

I had worried about how he'd take it when my mother left the house, taking the animals to start a new life. I know he wouldn't have been happy being an indoor cat. He'll always be a part of Pleasant Street, now, his belly always full of fieldmice and his feet on the sun-warmed earth.