The only cat I ever really loved has lost a battle with liver cancer.
Stan, named in honour of Canadian music legend Stan Rogers, was a rescue. He and his Mom were taken from a bad situation and by the time we met him his Mom already had a home and wee Stan was still hoping. He was a vocal little critter with a gorgeous face and a quirky personality. He grew quite large. In fact, if he was to shop for jeans in the Sears boys’ department he’d be sent to the “husky” section.
Stan’s early years were full of entertaining moments. He went missing one time and looking for him just about drove me bananas until I found him on the roof of the house, quite happily looking down on creation. He had squeezed through a slightly open window and just sat there, watching the birds and the activity below. He once got a little too curious about a dropped plastic grocery bag and in a flash, the handle got hooked on his neck. Anytime he moved, the bag rustled and that sent him into a frenzy. He flew all over the house, desperately trying to outrun the noisy bag that was right behind him! Catching him was impossible. It was a matter of sitting back watching the crazed cat running back and forth and waiting until the bag eventually shredded. It was hilarious. When it was all over the panting feline had an accusatory look on his face that said, What the hell did you do that for?
Stan never really had a lot of time for me in the first few years. I would try everything to get him to sit in my lap but it wouldn’t happen. Finally I accepted that I was going to be a kibble dispenser and a litterbox cleaner but not a close friend. Then I had surgery in December 2000 and had to stay home for several weeks to recover. For the first while, I’d make my way from the bedroom to the couch and that would be a full day. I guess Stan found me a little more appealing when I wasn’t flitting around multitasking, and he hopped up onto my lap like it was the most natural thing. I nearly yelled out with happiness! After that, Stan was always crawling up onto my lap and he (and Lee Roy, back in the day) joined me for my daily afternoon naps when I did the morning show on 680 News.
Stan got to experience life with different dogs – some great, some not so great – and to become good pals with rabbits. He would perch in the recording studio when music was being made and crawl through crumpled gift wrapping on Christmas. (He was also the reason I stopped using ribbon on presents. Once is enough for red, blue and green kitty throw-up on a light-coloured rug!) He had a good, long life and he was loved. I feel lucky to have known him. Stan is pictured in my photo gallery under “critters” as he met Jasper for the first time. Thanks for the memories, Stan.