Sierra came into my life a week after I started Sonoma State way back in 1990. It was the first time I was living on my own and it had been 8 months without a cat. A record for me.
I went to the Humane Society, the kind woman there let me into a room where a bunch of kittens were running free all over her desk. I sat in her chair and one really small kitten came up to me, fur sticking all over and bright green eyes. I stuck my finger near her and she batted her little paw. And that was it, I signed the documents, grabbed a cardboard box and she was mine. My first cat that was mine and just mine.
Sierra was with me thru 8 moves and a few boyfriends. She went outside when she felt like it but for the most part stayed inside and slept a lot. She was kinda cool towards people but not me. Its kinda neat when even though your cat is a jerk, they are *your* jerk and they love you.
She tried to catch bugs sometimes but in her 16 years she never caught a damn thing. One time I heard this plantif wail and I opened the front door. There she was looking so proud and the dead mouse at her feet. Little did she know I had already seen the dead mouse, caught by another cat and she was just taking the credit. Still she got tuna that night.
When I had a roomate a few years ago, she said Sierra slept all day either in her favourite corner in the bedroom or the closet, but when I got home and the garage door opened from below she ran to the front door waiting for me. All those years I thought she just slept near the front door.
She always came when I called her and allowed you to pat her head. But touch anything else and you got a nasty bite. She had her limits and communicated them very well.
In her later years she would start wailing, I thought she was hurt or in pain. But no, she had grabbed this old funky cloth shaped like a fish and she would present it to me. She would do it when people were over, sounding like a banshee in the house until I came to her and praised her for her fish hunting skills.
Sierra passed away October 3, 2006. She was a good cat and I miss her.
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I remember she used to bat my eyes while I was sleeping — gently, but enough to wake me up when she wanted me to pay attention to her. Or let her outside, or just give her food. She was very good at being a cat. Bless you for finding her and loving her all these years.
Oh, honey. *sniffle* I’m so sorry. What a lovely elegy to her.
Good hunting, Sierra. here’s hoping you finally catch everything you’ve chased.
A good friend, with a long life. Hugs.
I’ll paraphrase what James Robinson said about dogs:
“To own a cat is to know that one day you will cry.”
aww
what a beautiful tribute, with love and caterwauls from my SF SPCA sweetie Twilight.
Well, shoot… she was such a great cat. The only reason she didn’t succeed more often when attempting to nip me was due to all the practice I get avoiding my own cat!
I’ll miss her.
brave fish-thing killer!!
A fine cat. She had a good run.
Oh Sierra Cat, the cats, the cats are caterwauling
From den to den down the scratching post
The mice are gone, and no birds are flying
Its you, its you must go hunting and I must bide
(Sung to Danny Boy)
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