Today we say goodbye to our little buddy, Cliff, the cat who didn’t like us and didn’t really like anything but still hung around when he wanted. Oh, he was a tricky one. One minute he was aloof and staying just out of reach, the next he was rolling over and asking for pets…then biting your hand when you gave them up.
He mellowed out over the years as he came to realize we were only doing our best to give him the best life.
He became diabetic in his later years, which meant a lot of personal sacrifices for my wife and me. We each had to learn how to give him insulin after first poking him in the ear to check his blood sugar. This was twice a day, every day. (Michele got up at 4 am for almost 2 years to do this for him.) At first we were scared that he wouldn’t tolerate such close contact, but in time he came to a grudging acceptance of the whole routine.
By far Cliff’s best moments came as a companion to our other cat, Stella, when she got sick (partly why he earned the nickname “Buddy”). He stayed with her on her final night and day, not leaving her side until she passed. After this, he softened a little, even consenting to voluntarily hang out with us on the couch, letting us rub his belly while we were watching TV.
Oh, he was a pain in the ass. But he was also a good cat. He was a true friend, who kept watch over us and never once tried to escape the house. He was a favorite at the vet’s office, a place where he unfortunately spent lots of time…all the ladies there always complimented him on being so handsome.
He was a weirdo, preferring hard floors to beds, and old wallets to regular cat toys. Sometimes we wanted him to just be a normal cat who enjoyed normal cat things, but that was Cliff in a nutshell.
As I write this I can’t help but be sad that I will never see him again. But I will never forget him. Our little Buddy.
Love you, Cliff. Rest in peace.
Cliff C. Cookson, 2007-2019.
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