This morning our neighbours cat Vinnie was run over and killed.
It was awful and sad and I shall miss him very much.
Lloyd found him and yelled out, so I ran out to check him then went to tell the neighbours. This is their second cat I've had to report dead to them. If it happens again I'll probably be under suspicion.
Anyway he was a really special little character. And I know everyone says that about their cats and thats because its true. I've known a lot of cats over the years and they all have their little personalities and quirks. There doesn't seem to be two the same. And I love them all.
Okay, thats not strictly true. Vinnies predecessor, Monty, I didn't love him. He was a menace, I always had to be on alert, watching the backyard all the time in case he came in. Because he was mentally distured in some way and thought it was a good idea to come into our yard and fight our staffordshire bull terrier. He did it a few times and the last time was one of my most awful memories and I've been traumatised every since. Anyway, he took his final revenge on me by getting himself run over in front of our house and having me find him. God, that was awful as well.
But otherwise I love them all. My daughter said if she dies she wants to come back as one of my cats. All the neighbours cats end up at our place. I sing to them and talk to them and feed them and laugh with them and love them. Hey, my nickname isn't Cat for nothing!
And Vinnie was a beautiful boy. I sort of tried to lure him away from the neighbours after my cat Carl died. I thought I could have Vinnie about without having all the heartbreak that you get when they die. But I have to say that didn't really work because I was pretty devastated this morning.
He would spend his days lying on our verandah, going off every now and then to chase butterflies or beetles, or belt up any girl cats he could find. He and Sabrina from across the road would sit and have long steely staring contests. Then I'd sit on the step and he'd climb onto my lap, purring away wanting a scratch under the chin. And he always tried to come in our front door. Whenever you were coming inside he'd sit in front of you with his nose pressed in the crack ready to walk in. In fact yesterday he bit my foot when I wouldn't let him in. One day I found him wandering up the hallway because someone had let him in thinking he was ours.
So yeah, I'll miss him. Him and his bling. He had heaps of bling on his collar.
And I'd just like to say that people who run over cats, or dogs, on town streets and just leave them lying there are real arseholes. Doesn't take much to get out of the car and check them or move them to the side of the road.
R.I.P. Vinne. You were a good boy and you gave us lots of laughs and you died way too soon.