Bud

Dudley, a cat, acquired me in 2001 when he was 2 or 3 years old. He brought his name with him. I supposed the name was a play on a cartoon character Dudley Do-Right. I simply called him Bud.

Bud died this morning. After a 3 day decline, his body simply shut down. If the standard metric that a year of a cat’s life is equivalent to five years of human life, Bud had lived long, and by his own acknowledgment, well.

Lacking front claws (a peculiar bourgeois insistence of rescue cats) he had never been outside a house when he came to me. That quickly changed, and his adventures began. He lived with 3 large dogs…and charmed all of them.

He was a fine mouser, a terror to feral cats, a stalker of small birds and bugs of all kinds. Late in his life, he liked to lie in the sun on the front porch, a repose sometimes interrupted by local crows who would spot a mouse running in the herb garden below and in front of the porch. Screaming at him, they chided him to catch that mouse, leave the carcass for them to harvest. Usually he ignored this, but sometimes complied. As always he lived by his rules, his pleasures, his purposes.

I shall miss Bud whom I buried among his canine companions.

Requiescat in pacem.