Ringo

My heart hurts today. You see, a few days ago our rock star kitty, Ringo, was hit by a car and killed. He was only three years old and still just filling in to his oversized paws. In many ways, he was just an ordinary cat - a grey and black striped tabby, but in every way he just exuded a coolness that belied ordinary catness. His walk was the sort of stalk you see in big, wild cats on nature shows, all lanky, protruding shoulder bones and long strides. He was a mighty hunter; field mice were fine enough, but he would also bring us baby bunnies and he apparently had a taste for squirrel (and routinely caught specimen as big as himself).

I often said that having him in our life would be excellent training in the event we ever find ourselves raising a teenage boy. He clearly craved our attention, running between our feet and greeting us in the driveway as soon as we came home, but would never deign to sit in our laps, and if we swooped down upon him and picked him up he would only just tolerate it. His schedule of choice had him roaming about at night and coming in in the morning to sleep off the previous evenings festivities. On occasion, we would hear rather frightening wailing from the neighbor's yard, but Ringo always came home mostly unscathed. His independence never failed to keep us guessing, but he always came home.

What threw him off was the move. Tara and I moved last week to a beautiful new home. It was -- is -- and exciting time, and we have walked around the last several weeks telling our pets about how much they would love all the new space and the acres of farmland that now surround us. Ringo, as you might expect, does not speak English though. And the move proved confusing for him. He showed no interest in going outside initially, and followed us around from room to room mewing pitifully -- not at all like the Ringo we knew. On Saturday night though he showed an interest in going outside. Tara and I had talked about not letting him out until he seemed more comfortable in the house, but when I saw him wanting to go outside I was relieved to see him acting normally. So, though I thought to myself that I didn't want him to go outside, when he ran out while I was putting out the dog, I didn't try and stop him. It must not have been more than a half hour later when our phone rang; our number was on his collar. I have never wanted a rewind button so badly in my life.