The Sweetest Cat I Have Ever Known

My brother and I buried Bartleby this morning.

Bartleby

She died sometime late last night/early this morning. I found her when I brought food out for her. Usually, she'd come when she heard the sound of kibble hitting her dish and she never strayed far from her live oak tree anyway. Today she didn't come, even when I called. I found her on the other side of the driveway looking just as she always did when lazing out under her tree. She had no wounds we could see and we have no clue as to cause of death.

Bartleby, In Repose, Hoping To Not Be Inconvenienced

I made fun of her for her unwillingness to do, or be bothered by, anything. But that was actually the best part of her character, her sweet disposition. She let lizards skitter between her paws. She wouldn't chase the birds away from her food. The crows, in particular, would walk around within a few feet of her. But whenever my brother or I would leave or come home she would come out and sit by the edge of the driveway--sometimes in the driveway--to greet us, rub up against our legs, and snuggle a bit while we scratched her ears. Whenever we worked in the yard, she would supervise, sitting or lying right in front of us while we worked around her. I have never known a gentler animal.

Yesterday was our first good day in weeks. Perfect, really. Warm and sunny with a strong variable breeze, high clouds and no humidity. I took my yogurt and book and sat out under the live oak with Bartleby for the entire afternoon. Occasionally, she would stretch and I would pet her or scratch her ears or under her chin but mostly she just lay curled up against my legs with her head resting on my feet. I am so grateful for yesterday.

Bartleby, Pretending Not To Notice

We wanted to bury her under her live oak but the roots were too thick and tangled so my brother dug a hole in a ring of coral stone under the coconut palm where he had buried another cat of his years ago. We wrapped her in a white towel and, after petting her for the last time and telling her what a good cat she was and how happy we were that she'd chosen to stay with us and the joy she'd given us, we put her in the ground still in her towel shroud. I poured the dish of kibble I'd brought out for her this morning into the grave and we covered her over.

When we were done, I noticed for the first time a small gray ceramic figurine of a reclining feline, a good representation of Baby, the cat previously interred here years ago, in the grass. We'll have to get a calico one to accompany it now.

Bartleby, Stifling a Laugh

Goodbye, Bartleby.