And then there were four...

Alex sent me sad news in Norway today that our beloved cat, Tasha, was killed by a coyote last night.  Our backyard is juxtaposed to a network of habitat remnants in San Diego that has a high density of coyotes, no doubt thanks to an abundant supply of house cats.  For outdoor cats in this area, it's just a matter of time before they meet their fate this way (they even get picked off in front yards).  We keep our cats indoors at night, but the hours around dawn or dusk are risky, and we don’t always manage to round them up for the night during safe hours (and when we do, they escape anyway).  Sunset was still over an hour away when she met her maker.

Tasha exemplified the phrase “curiosity killed the cat”.  Always fearless and a compulsive risk taker, she’d gotten herself into lots precarious situations, like getting stuck in trees and tangled in ropes under crawl spaces, entering strangers’ vehicles, and getting bitten by dogs (she was half blind in one eye thanks to this).  I’m kinda surprised she made it this long.  She liked to play chicken with moving cars, and she was probably trying to say "hi" to those damn coyotes.  She was very intelligent, in the way that Siamese cats are (her mom was Siamese), but one might say she lacked street smarts.

Dripping with sweet, daring, annoying, demanding and hilarious personality, not to mention uber-cuteness, Tashie was my favorite.  So, we're all very sad right now and we'll miss her dearly.  The house won't be the same without her larger-than-life, always-in-your-face presence (for better or worse ;-).  But I know her short life was happy and top quality, and I know her end came quickly.  I believe this makes for a better kitty biography than getting bored and fat indoors and then dying of cancer or kidney failure in a vet's office. After all, she probably didn't spend too much time worrying about retirement.  So in some sense, this all seems ok.  But I'll miss her playful antics that always made me laugh, her purr and how she rubbed her face against mine, her battle cry, and mostly, her pretty eyes.

At least the lizards and birds in our yard will sleep a little easier tonight.  

Here are some pictures in her memory.

Tasha, 2004 – 2011

 when she and her brother, Boris, were little kittens.  She's on the right.

 I've always loved this photo.  She's just about a year old here.

This pic is from 2008. She had the most stunning eyes.