My life, the people in it and any other shit I decide to throw at you.

Tuesday, 9 December 2008

Dear Smeagol....

... do you remember the first day we met?
I do so clearly. You were with your mum and your siblings, sat amongst the straw on the floor of the living room you were born in. Amongst the rabbits and rabbit shit, where the kids were sat eating chicken nuggets, off plates sat among the straw and rabbit shit. I was nearly sick and knew I had to get you outta there ASAP. So we arranged I could pick you a week later - June 28th 1996 - at 9.00am so you could be Jamie's birthday surprise. I have often thought I should have brought your twin too, especially since he never found another home, and having the same condition you had, didn't see his first birthday by not getting the care we gave you.
You were dead silent all the way home, in your box, as I walked through Hitchin, back to our house in Common Rise. I hid you away, and got Jamie out of bed to come and get his present. Made him close his eyes to meet his visitor - he thought I'd got his Dad over! You were silent as I took you out of the box, and just as you were about to hit his lap, you let out a tiny meow and gave the bloody game away. Jamie was delighted though.
You were a sickly kitten and cost me a fortune in vet bills - I only had a bloody part time job as I was still technically at Uni then. They told us we'd only have you til about 7 or 8 at the utmost. But you always take after me - stubborn buggers, aren't we?
I used to bite my nails back then, and can recall with interest seeing you on the floor of our flat in Haysman Close watching me intently - then biting your own claws to cut them back.
I remember the panicked phone call I got while I was at work because you had jumped out of our second storey window ... and left an almighty skid in the mud and were fine!
I remember in Common Rise you sitting on the end of the bed, fascinated by Star Trek Voyager, but attacking Tuvok. Great, I though, I have a racist cat.
I remember losing my temper with you during a game of tag, going to grab you for clawing me too hard, falling and snapping my thumb back so far it touched the back of my hand. I had to go onstage for the rest of the run of Wind in the Willows in a hand cast.
Then there was the night you vanished off the balcony from Hilltop Court. Jamie had only moved out that afternoon and I'd bloody lost you already! I was, to be fair, a bit drunk ... and I could hear you calling. I ran down to find you, thinking that a fall like that surely meant broken legs ... I was cut to buggery in the brambles getting into Macy Grays garden. Remember her? Clearly not Macy Gray but looked a bit like her and sang gospel at 4am every fucking Sunday morning. And were did you turn up? Next doors balcony, hidden amongst his skunk plants. I got high as a kite just passing through his living room to find you.
You are great when I have a migraine ... curling up, with your back pressed into the length of my body, so I have something to cuddle. You also have an amazing talent for only trying to get on my lap about 3 seconds before I am getting out of the chair.
The first night I let you out, when me moved into Russell Rise, I was so nervous. Would you dive up the alley and go out to the main road? Would you even bother coming back? Of course, you did the moment you got hungry. And then the next door brought me a mouse to show how proud you were that I was finally convinced you were well enough to go out. Shame you didn't think to kill it. Or catch it once it was loose in the house. Three hours it took me to corner the bugger.
Moving house was always a worry for us. From Hitchin to Letchworth, and then Letchworth to Luton, you hid for weeks! But the move from Luton to Wales - four hours in a van - and you just crawled out of your box, had a sniff about and settled on Dans other sofa.
You seem to really love living up the valleys now. That shack was your fave hiding place as you could see the backdoor and know the moment I came home, to leg it to the backdoor.
But you haven't done that these last 7 days, have you?
Its been so cold. You never did well in cold. I keep thinking, that maybe you went to sleep on all the brambles between the lane and the river at the back of the house and didn't wake up. Or maybe found somebody who keeps better hours than I do. Or feeds you tuna more than once a month.
I have had a candlelit vigil for you every night since Sunday.
I have asked Nan to keep you safe until I can join you one day.
There probably wont be any more memories for us to make, but I promise you one thing, Beaglebot.
I wont stop loving you.
Your daddy x


  • At 3:41 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    A beautiful epitaph. I am certain Smeagol knows how much you love and miss him. I often wonder if my Fluffy Sausage knew how much he meant to me...I still miss him so very much.


  • At 5:05 pm, Blogger Ruby Tuesday said…

    Oh lovely, that's brought a tear to my eye. Smeagol knows how much you mean to him, I'm sure of it xx

  • At 8:37 am, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Anybody who saw you and Smeagol together knows how much you love him. Sorry to hear he has gone.

    John, Letchworth

  • At 10:08 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    He was a glorious shining light in a world full of shit. He was a good friend.

    I will miss him, as I have every day for the last seven years.

    Where ever he is, I hope he's at peace.

    My thoughts mate are with you.


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