9/29/2018

farewell dread pirate

Habitually I check the front porch. Little noises, house creaks and the breeze, draw me to the back door, but our utility room remains empty. It's been more than a week, and I have finally washed his food dishes and put them away.

Westley, named in June of 2000 by our daughter after his acquisition at (yes) a garage sale, for the Princess Bride character who was dear and sweet but took on the role of the dread pirate Roberts, has disappeared. Not without saying goodbye.

Ten days or more ago he stopped eating and drinking. The expensive veterinary food that saved him in January had done all it could. Westley's been spending many hours per day out front, curled and snoozing beneath our crimson maple. When we left or arrived home he sometimes greeted us, and always after dark he asked to come inside. Towards dawn, his signature "Mrr-OW!" (Hel-LO!) would wake us, Tim letting him out again to wander and snooze.

James's asters growing beneath the maple near the spot where Westley loved to nap.

We were booked for an overnight visit with some of Tim's extended family in Seaside on Thursday the 20th. Wednesday the 19th, Westley made no evening appearance. I had already sensed that his systems were shutting down. I checked around the house outside to no avail. His pet door was still accessible, and he had always continued to be able to use it to come in the back when necessary, but that night he didn't show there, either.

In bed I felt the tears build and spill. Crazy animal. He and I've had a tumultuous relationship. We were often akin to ever-bickering spouses who, when deprived of one another, are surprisingly at a loss.

I wished I had talked to him more that morning, petted his knobby, 18-year-old head. If only I'd scratched behind those notched ears and whispered goodbye. But I had just fed him food he regarded briefly then ignored, changed his water as always, though it remained untouched.

I was glad we had let him finish his course his way, while recognizing he might still show up again. He's come close to death two or three times before and pulled through. As his ears showed, he never stopped being a scrapper. But I knew we might find him tomorrow in really bad shape and need to take him to the veterinarian one final time. This has happened with our dog and another elderly kitty. We would have to see what the morning would bring.

Packing for our drive north occupied me early Thursday, until we were nearly ready to go. And then I heard him helloing on the front porch. He and I completed our morning ritual at his food dish; I crouched and petted him a long while; Tim came in and gave his greeting. Westley had already gone out again when we left town. We'd made sure all his supplies were available. But we didn't know if he would be around when we returned on Friday.

He wasn't.

Last picture of our sweet little pirate, "helping" Tim sort vintage reel-to-reel recordings.

4 comments:

gz said...

Always sad when friends leave us, whatever sort of animal...

Frex said...

Ah, I have an ache in my throat after reading, "He wasn't."

I had thought Westley was from Star Trek TNG, but of course that's spelled differently--(Wesley Crusher might be a good name for a cat...).
I hadn't realized it was from TPB--I don't know that movie well, so I looked it up and was interested to see the Dread Pirate is not one person, but a succession who hold the title--like the Doctor---or, in some ways, like cats?


As GZ said, it's always sad when friends leave us, yes indeed. Sending loving thoughts,
XO Fresca



Dee said...

Dear Deanna, as Dulcy said to me two days after she died, "At the end all that matters is love. My love for my human and hers for me. I have planted the memories of our life together in her heart. She will find them there when I am gone, and they will comfort her."

And so those memories have comforted me. She's been dead now since July 6, 1989, but her grace and beauty and love continue to bless my life. The books she gave me--"A Cat's Life: Dulcy's Story" and "A Cat's Legacy: Dulcy's Companion Book" were blessing that came after her death. They helped me grieve and find the true beauty of our love and the truth of our commitment.

I'm sure that you, too, have wonderful memories--funny ones, poignant one, soft and tender ones. I'm sure they will comfort you. Peace.

deanna said...

Thank you so much, friends, for your thoughts and words about animals and loss. I've been sick this past week, no doubt partly because my system reacted to this loss of Westley.

Gz, I so agree. We've had a menagerie of sorts over the years, and now we are pet-less. Very different.

Fresca, it's awesome how you check into things like character names. I had also read about how the Dread Pirate was a passed-on role (I didn't remember from the movie, having not seen it in years). Dear Sweet Westley also had a signature response, "As you wish." Our Westley talked a lot, and while I was often annoyed by this, I know his meaning was as the other Westley's: I love you.

Dee, I thought about you after this happened, how you wrote two books regarding your kitty friend. I'm sure these not only gave spiritual insight but also comforted those grieving their pet friends' passings.

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