Charlie's Gone
RIP mighty hunter, genuine Godsend, and faithful friend
Charlie's story begins with Max, the big black medium-hair feral who had been coming around for food for a few weeks. One day in March of 2011, I saw Big Max walking up as usual, but with a precious little orange kitten at his side. "C'mon, kid, I'll show you where they'll give you some grub. (And you can quit following me around.)" Max looked like a meanie but he was a sweetheart.
When Charlie came in the house, he laid down on the carpet looking like he'd always been here. Our herd of other cats and our dear dog Gimli accepted him immediately. I tried to name him Chuck, because our other male cats were Jack, Spark, and Buck, but he wasn't a Chuck, he was a Charlie.
He was a Godsend for me. Those were troubled days, and hugging a kitten was rare and much-needed relief. He was so dear to us.
Years passed, Charlie grew, the herd thinned, until only Charlie and his adoptive mother Ony remained. So much could be told, but for now I have to conclude.
Tuesday, Mar 29, 2022, at about 12:30pm CST, after several weeks of failing health, mighty hunter, true Godsend, dear companion, and devoted friend, Charlie the golden, breathed his last. We buried him out where so many other dear pets were buried. His grave is marked with yellow daffodils. And tulips.
If there is a rainbow bridge, I can imagine that on the other side, many will be waiting to greet him, including Max, who will tell Charlie, c'mon, kid, I'll show you where you can hang out until your people arrive.
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