2002-07-21 9:09 p.m.
Eulogy for a Life Well Slept
Callie (short for Calistoga Kitty) adopted my grandparents sometime in the mid-80s. She was already full-grown, a large but quiet grey presence who doted on my grandparents as they did on her. After Grandpa died and Grandma was no longer able to take care of her, Callie retired to my aunt's house.
My aunt has a stove sort of like this one -- an old-style gas range, probably original to the house, where the pilot lights are underneath the griddle. Soon after moving in, Callie hopped up on the stove and curled up for a nap in the roasting pan on top of the griddle, and it became clear very quickly that this is where the cat intended to live out her dotage. My aunt (who has a well-earned reputation as a soft touch when it comes to animals) never cooks anyway, so she decided that Callie could stay.
As she got older, it became harder for Callie to get up onto the stove, so my aunt moved a stool in front of it to make the climb easier. On the rare occasions that the dowager kitty came down from the stove, the other cats deferred to her, letting her eat first and on occasion grooming her ears.
Last week Callie lost consciousness and had to be taken to the vet. She never woke up. Callie was 20ish at her passing, give or take a few years. And my aunt did not heed her boyfriend's suggestion that a proper burial for Callie would be with her roasting pan.