Thursday, September 14, 2017

R.I.P. Rose the Cat

I had Rose put to sleep this morning (Thursday, September 14th, 2017).  Her health was failing, and I don't think she weighed more than five pounds.  She had stopped eating, and only drank a little water once in a while.  I tried tempting her with canned cat food, which she loves, and she only ate a few tiny bites.

Rose showed up at the old homestead just before my brother acquired Zeus.  The way I understood it, my parents were at the vet's office getting my mother's dog Suzy doctored, and Rose was sitting in the middle of a waiting room inside a large bird cage.  She liked people, and had a very plaintive meow, and my father thought she was a nice cat.  So Rose came home and was ensconced out at the barn.

As you can see, Rose is a long haired cat.  In the winter time she got along very nicely, and her winter coat made her look like a great big orange puffball.  She got along with the other cats, although she really didn't like them all that well.  What she liked was people and attention - and turkey.

Rose Cat
At Thanksgiving and Christmas, we'd really throw on a feed, and we cooked the turkey (and sometimes a ham) in a smoker.  That was some of the best turkey I ever had, and the gravy was enough to ruin anyone's diet for six months.  One year I had just finished carving the turkey, and Rose showed up in the garage to see what it was that smelled so nice.  I got the bright idea of giving her a little piece of turkey, just because.  That turkey vanished faster than a loose sawbuck in an Eastside bar.  The problem was, Rose had deduced the source of the turkey as being inside the house, so the next time someone went out (like me, for instance), a little orange streak came in and started an enthusiastic turkey hunt.  Being a bit dim, possibly due to the eggnog, I used a little piece of turkey to lure her back out.

Well, she went back outside alright, and came right back in the next time the door was opened.  Good job, self.

You may wonder why Rose was an outdoor cat.  My father kept an african grey parrot, Hobo, and Hobo liked being out of his cage.  Rose being a real tried and true hunter, it would only be a matter of time before Hobo wound up as parrot fricassee.  So Rose and the other cats stayed outside, where the parrot was safe.

After the parrot left, Rose was admitted into the house.  Zeus arrived shortly thereafter, as did Danté and Lily.  At night while we watched TV, Zeus would sit in Mom's lap and Rose would sit on the arm of her chair.  When Mom went to bed, all four cats would join her, each cat having their own corner.  Mom had to keep the peace, which meant asserting herself when a boxing match started.

I inherited Zeus and Rose, both of whom were antiques when we all moved to Columbus.  Zeus passed away last July (R.I.P. Zeus), and now Rose is gone - leaving Danté and I on our own.  We're used to it.

So that's Rose.  She was a good cat, never got up on the counter or sharpened on the furniture.  She liked being brushed, and was kind of high maintenance that way, but she was worth it.  R.I.P. Rose.


  1. So sorry sir or your loss. Rest on peace, sweet Rose.

    1. Thanks Momma Fargo. Rose lived to be pretty old, but as with all foundlings we're not sure just how old she was. She was pretty sick over the past few days.

  2. Sweet Rose is remembered with love. Sorry for your loss Bill.

    1. Thanks Tennessee Grammie. Rose was everyone's favorite cat, and she really liked people. She'd let anyone pick her up and carry her around, and she loved being brushed. She wasn't a bit shy about demanding that I brush her every night.

  3. Poor Rosie. I will say a prayer and raise a glass, WL. Losing a cat is serious business, and no joke about it. I still miss mine.