Stumperino the Magnificat -- RIP

It came to my attention, on this the day after my birthday, that it is now nearly three years since Stumperino the Magnificat went to a place where she could be ripped on catnip 24/7. Of course, there is no ‘time’ in feline heaven. There is no time on feline earth, other than mealtime.

Anyway, I have mentioned Stumpy before; at the time of her demise, I believe. She was called Stumpy because she was a full Manx with no tail whatsoever. I was also put in mind of her via Dumdad’s recent column about his own cat. A cat that boasted coloration very similar to that of el Stumpa.

Stumpy was only with us for 2 ½ years. We got her from a shelter and our vet deduced she was probably about six. So, reaching the age of only 8 ½ seems like kind of a rip-off. Especially to us.

Now, get this straight. Wendy is the ‘cat-person’ in this household. I am more of a canine aficionado. I mean, I have a cat. I had old Griffin prior to Wendy, and he keeps soldiering on in apparent decent health. He was my bachelor-days buddy, so I owe him a bit of my sanity and serenity.

But, the moment Stumpy came into the house, my preconceptions about cats were dispelled. It is a trait of Manxes to be more dog-like in manner and attitude. And she was. She bonded with me almost immediately. She followed me around the house and followed me around the garden. Wherever I happened to be, she wanted to be there. But, you know, not in a sucky, irritating way did she want to be there. She just wanted to be in my company, and then she would head out in the vicinity to murder snakes, catch bugs, chew grass, barf. All the fun things for a cat.

Stumpy was very attitudinal, but in a charming way. She strode the world with a stubby-gait that somehow reminded me of Jimmy Cagney in some of his early movies. You know, little guy, but you wouldn’t want to fuck with him – “you dirty rat.”

I grew very attached to her. We both did. And I hadn’t realized how attached I’d become until the day she, in agony, had to be transported to the vet and I, knowing instinctively something was very wrong with the obstreperous, personality-galore cat, braced myself for the worst. It was the worst. She was riddled with bowel-cancer. I gave the vet the nod.

On the way home I actually wept. For a cat!

Wendy and I often make references to old Stumperino. In so doing, we realize we really miss her. She got a short duration, but made a huge impression. Some people are like that, too. Their destinies call for them to be here for a brief time, but to leave an everlasting imprint.