Our cat, BG, died last night. She was fifteen-and-a-half, and had always lived with us at the house in Bequia. In fact, she and Chance (who predeceased her by five years) moved into that house with us in late May, 1996, when they were only about eight weeks old. BG, who was not named for the musical brothers – the initials stood for “Blue’s Granddaughter” – was the best ratter ever! Unfortunately, she felt the need to gift us with dead rats, their necks expertly broken, whenever we had guests over for dinner. But our house, and the entire hillside, was generally kept rodent/lizard/bird-free by a cat whose hunting instincts, and accuracy, were better than any other cat that has ever lived with us. She also loved the smell of perspiration, deoderant and cologne, and could be a bit embarrassing whenever she jumped on a visitor’s knee and began sticking her nose into their armpit. If allowed to continue, she’d also drool. Downright weird, but everyone has their peculiarities.
Last December, just four days before Christmas, BG was attacked by two dogs while we were out for the afternoon. There was blood left behind, but we couldn’t find her, and presumed that she had crawled off to die. She suddenly appeared in our living room after two days in the late afternoon, hungry and thirsty, but otherwise unscathed, so we figured that the dogs had fared worse than BG. But she showed signs, over the following months, of having been traumatised by the attack. She began bumping into doors and walls, and had that vague over-your-shoulder look whenever we spoke to her, yet the vet said her eyes were fine and healthy. She also changed her habits and began wandering. Dennis would have to go out searching for her, and she’d often be quite far away from our house, possibly unable to follow her nose back home, because her sense of smell was likely failing as well.
This past week, Dennis told me she hadn’t been doing all that well, was off her food completely, and not very active, but was seemingly without pain. He tried to increase her fluid intake to rehydrate her, but we’d seen this same pattern with Toby previously. Cats know when it’s their time, and they very sensibly just stop living. BG died in her sleep last night at around midnight, Bequia time. We’ll miss her very much. BG was a very good cat.