Today marks 8 months since our beloved cat, Lard, died. His name wasn’t really Lard, it was Mr. Sandman but when he came to live with us he couldn’t seem to get enough to eat and I nicknamed him Lard one day and it stuck.
Mr. Sandman was a cat rescued by one of those wonderful organizations that try and find abandoned cats a home. We didn’t see him until he had been in a cage at the local pet store for 7 months. We had a small 5 pound cat at home and thought that was probably enough. But Mr. Sandman looked like a big brother, a really big brother to the cat we had at home. The cat at home was named Teeny Weeny but we don’t seem to leave given names alone and we have always called him Duck. Pete actually first saw Mr. Sandman and he came home and told me about him and how nice a cat he seemed to be. I didn’t take him too seriously as Pete has not really been a lover of cats. He went back the next week and Mr. Sandman was there. A few visits later we had the cat carrier in the car and Mr. Sandman was in it. He weighed 17 pounds when we brought him home and blossomed to 20 in short order.
He lived with us for almost 10 years. He and Duck became buddies. They would tussle on the floor and then one of them would walk away. They never fought at the food bowl. Lard had claws and Duck did not. Lard had been in an accident and had no ability to leap as cats do. To annoy him Duck would do all kinds of acrobatics over and around him and then climb on the back of the sofa and fall asleep. When I was still working he would hear my car drive in and there he would be waiting at the door when I came in. Lard always slept on the end of the bed at night. He could not jump onto the bed so he had to plant his claws into the mattress and manuever up with his hind legs.
Food was his passion. In particular he loved crab. He would make his way onto his haunches and sit and beg if he thought there was something worth begging for. He never was obnoxious about meowing – he just sat and quietly begged. Every a.m. when one of us would get up there he would be by the food bowl. He was waiting for his crab cake treat and then off he would go for a nap.
Last fall it became obvious he was losing weight. He was still as dear and attentive as ever but to all who have had cats you just know when that dreaded renal failure has come. We did our best to make his last weeks of life as easy and pleasant as possible. The end was inevitable. We had made an appointment to have him put to sleep on a Monday. On Sunday, the day before, I brushed him and cleaned him and laid him on his soft bed. He never moved from there and just went to sleep forever for us. I was so happy we did not have to take him in.
Lard is buried in the yard and his marker is a full can of sealed crab treats. His picture is on the computer when it comes on. I loved that dear old lump of Lard. Pets have a way of becoming part of the family. This guy had an unusual knack of becoming part of ours. I miss you, dear Lard, and think of you with nothing but love and appreciation for all you taught us about survival.