Remembering Bagheera

Bagheera
31.10.2000 - 29.07.2014

Like all cats, he was exceptional...

He was a black panther -- hence the name, Bagheera.

King of his particular jungle...

Lord of his domain...

Above: stalking green parrots on the big lawn. He never caught one, but when he was 12 years old he caught an enormous rat, and pridefully laid it out as a trophy. He was a fighting cat -- the stories of his battles would fill pages. He loved to curl up in a printer-paper box ... or in the beanbag, especially at Christmas, when he'd wrestle with the tinsel monster. And win.Below: He was a blackberry kitten -- born at Halloween, at the Millennium. His kittenhood was just a little too early for digital photography, so we have only a couple of snapshots. This one, below, makes him look exactly as he was when he was five or six months. In fact, he was five-ish.

Goodness, what big eyes you have...

Mellow, in the jungle...

The tinsel monster! Christmas, 2004

Paper box. Best cat bed ever.

Below: helping (!) to make Sushi ... rolling on the pavers ... stretching with all claws unsheathed, by the glass door to the upstairs deck ... "helping" to unpack boxes...

 

Streeeetch ... yaaaawn ... naptime.

Dream on in peace, little boy --
Or is it time for the next adventure? Go for it.

Two years since he left us. Ye gods, how time flies. The next year will go just as fast, and I'll be back with another swag of pictures ... and a few tears. (To answer a question -- the poem, Ode to a Black Cat, is one of mine. I wrote it about eight or ten years ago ... in another lifetime, as it sometimes seems.)