Bye Bye, Bebert

 We are feeling very sad this week, since we had to say good-bye to our dear furry friend, Bebert.  He was not even six years old, and he hadn't shown any signs of illness until about two weeks ago, when he started walking away from his favorite food, which he left completely uneaten.  As the days went by, he continued to refuse food and began to cry beseechingly as he looked at his food and could not eat it.  So of course, he had to visit the veterinarian, causing him a terrible ordeal as he fought like a wildcat to avoid being placed in the carrier, and he moaned and growled all the way there.  He even had to be sedated in order for the vet to examine him.  Our worst fears were realized when the blood tests revealed that both his kidneys and liver were failing, and we were told that any treatment would be difficult and painful and probably ineffective. So we made the decision to euthanize him, and, still sedated, he died in my arms.  I loved this sweet guy, and it hurt like hell to feel his heart stop beating.


I remember the day we found him and his two sisters, born of a feral mom who had brought her babies to our back yard, perhaps to show them where they could always find food.  We'd been feeding the feral parents for many months. The tiny kittens, only about four weeks old, were hiding in the bushes when I walked by, and they revealed their presence by their loud hissing and spitting, trying to scare me away.  My husband and I managed to capture them and quiet their struggles with soothing words and gentle caresses.  Here's little Bebert on the day we found him, still frightened but tolerating our handling him.

He and his sisters were quickly tamed and soon had the run of the house.  Of all the three, Bebert was the boldest, the most daring.  And as cute as a kitten could be.

Of course, little kittens can sure be rascals, and Bebert was no exception. He love spilling the napkin basket and sending the napkins flying.

We don't let any of our cats outdoors, and they never seemed to mind or try to escape.  But they certainly liked to watch what was happening out there, especially around the birdfeeders.

We decided to keep Bebert and his sister Cleo for our own, and the two were inseparable.  During playtime, they would fiercely scuffle, kicking and biting and leaping on one another, but then collapse in a tangled heap of warm and sleepy soft fur.

And they grew . . .

. . . and they grew!  It wasn't long before they outgrew this kitty bed, but they still snuggled in together.

The years went by, and Bebert and Cleo still happily hung out together.

Most visitors to our house never knew what a sweetie Bebert could be.  Although he was bold and friendly as a kitten, as Bebert matured he reverted some to his feral nature, acting terrified of humans other than us, and even running as if in fear from my husband and me at times.  The one time Bebert seemed completely at ease was during my breakfast, when I would sit at the table for quite some time, reading my morning newspapers.  Then he would sprawl among the papers, basking in the morning sun and accepting my caresses with loud purrs and friendly chirps.  Sometimes we would also be joined by big fuzzy Finn, our Maine Coon cat who also died recently, just a few weeks ago at the end of January.  Finn and Bebert were good pals, and I like to imagine them finding each other in some kitty heaven somewhere. That image helps soothe my loss a bit, as well as assuage my regret that I caused Bebert's last day to be spent under such duress.  We do what we can.