It's been almost a year since I've posted anything. But stuff happens, and I need to write about a perfect cat.
Bo was a girlfriends' gift to my son, (no comment here) who traveled a lot, lived in a condo, and would rather get a hole in one than a pet. Having no previous experience with a cat, he taught him to fetch. And let him explore the balcony of his condo, figuring that animals pretty much stayed to confined areas. Ha.
A challenge to any red-blooded cat, particularly this one, who more than once ended up on the roof , or stuck on a ledge.
A few years later Bo left California and moved in with us, for obvious reasons. We promptly changed his name from Beau to Bo. Luckily, for unlike most cats, he came when he was called.
At the time we were living on a small farm in rural Virginia, and had two other cats. A haven, and heaven for Bo, of wild turkeys, raccoons, woodchucks, blacksnakes, and mice of course. Occasionally eyed from above by The state bird of Virginia, the Turkey Vulture.
I might add that at one time or another all of the above used the cat door, except for the vultures, who kind of hung around and waited.
An aside: Oddly, the local hospital was plagued by vultures that set up shop in the trees behind the building. Between the hospital and the nursing home actually. They tried everything but couldn't get rid of them, last I heard. Not too good for patient morale, ya think? I'm not sure I want to know what the vultures got out of it.
At any rate, we moved several times over the years, always an adventure for a curious cat. (See previous blog, My Cat is 80)
And finally, and sadly, for the past 5 years it has been just him and me. We took walks after dinner, like the geriatrics that we were. And of course, if you're a cat that thinks you're a dog, you like to take walks. Heel, even.
This past December, in the midst of moving to a new life in a new state, Bo died of what turned out to be lung cancer. At least he made it to 18, and they were good years.
So this is a tribute to my best buddy.