Gustav MacKenzie Surratt-Duncanson

b. April 1 (?), 1991, d. November 10, 2005.

Our cat Gus died Thursday night. I came home from work while there was still a little bit of light to rake leaves, and while changing clothes I heard an alarming little cough-like wheeze from somewhere in the bedroom. I looked everywhere I could think of - under the bed, behind books and shoes, on shelves, in other rooms, even outside in the yard - but couldn't find him. Isabel and Dali, the other cat and the dog, were present and accounted for but no help. I asked Izzy several times, "Where's your brother?" but got no reply.

Gven came home after her classes, and we both searched the house again, no luck. We ate supper, read, watched TV, walked Dali, and kept wondering where Gus was hiding. The poor guy has been sick for some time - heart murmur, thyroid condition - and has lost a lot of weight in the past year. Lately he's been losing his balance, walking unsteadily, and falling off tables without his usual aplomb. So we all saw it coming.

Finally around midnight Gven found him, curled up inside a wardrobe-type suitcase that was hanging in the back of her closet, quite dead. We laid him on a tee-shirt and talked about what to do next. He was limp and lifeless but not yet cold or rigid. I put my hand on him for a long time, and began to feel my own pulse, a strange sensation, but no, no miracles today. Dali hovered behind Gven, looking very concerned. Isabel stayed away for quite a while, seemingly oblivious, and finally sauntered over, sniffed around the corner of the room by the closet, and quickly walked right by with no outward response. Gven thought maybe she wasn't even acknowledging the body on the floor because his essence wasn't there anymore. Hard to tell.

We decided to bury him in the garden, and I found a wicker basket about his size. Since it was a cool evening, we put him in the closed garage overnight. Tonight or tomorrow I will dig a hole with the brand-new Sears Craftsman long-handled spade that has never been used. I just got it in exchange for the old shovel that had recently broken from hard use. There's a nice spot under a couple of smallish evergreens, and we'll place a little plaque there. First we have to tell Helga, which won't be easy. Gus was always her cat.

Gus and Isabel came to us as littermates from my running partner (see MacKenzie's Laws, Archives April 2005) and his family's family of cats. Funny, I hadn't seen the MacKenzies for years, then ran into his daughter at the coop Wednesday night, long time no see. We got Gus and Izzy as kittens on Helga's seventh birthday when we lived in Grandview. They were both longhaired little furballs and completely adorable. They moved with us to Alabama later that year, then back to Clintonville a year later, then to another house in Clintonville where we actually stayed put for ten years, and finally to Northeasterville, where Gus will remain.