Bollie came in to my life as a lost kitten who stumbled in to a friend's workshop. You were about six months old and I was the lucky one who got to take this little treasure home. He grew up to be a big, fluffy cat who weighed about 12kg when fully grown. He had such a patient nature, and children adored him. So did Ginger and I.

He would wait for me in the windowsill and meet me at the door when I arrived home from anywhere. He loved to be around you, and liked to survey his domain from the top of the scratching post. Ginger belonged to the neighbours, who weren't cat "people" and he soon moved himself in to our house and became Bollie's best furry friend. Bollie, you weren't a "lap" or "bed" cat, you just had to be "around". And when I picked you up for a cuddle, you could see you were just tolerating it and you had a look on your face that said "Well, if you must cuddle me, hurry up and get it over and done with!" If he thought you went out too late, well then, the carpet at the garage door had to be chewed up, and the furniture shredded. He was obsessed with the garage and loved to poke around in it.

Bollie, I can still smell your thick fur coat when you had just washed it. Feel the softness and curls of your fur as I brushed it and cut out the fur balls. I can see you laying with your wrists crossed over. See your back leg hanging off the scratching post because you were too big for it... Remember when the Fire Brigade came and rescued you from the stormwater drain and they couldn't believe how big you were? How people were a bit frightened of you until they saw how placid you were? I could talk to you about anything and you would listen and half close your eyes as you pondered the intricacies of life. Ginger and Bollie would race up and down my hallway chasing each other and the "aliens" and leave their fur everywhere. And while you were the bigger of the two cats, it was always Ginger sending you to the vet with eye scratches. He was the victor in those battles! I can still see you after your bath, looking like a drowned rat shaking your paws doing the "Wet Cat Dance".

I remember the day that I went to work and you were outside. When I got home, you were inside! What a magic cat, seeing as there was no cat door or earthly way to get in. Turns out my mother was travelling past my house on the bus and she saw you looking miserable on the front mat, because it was a rainy day. She felt so sorry for you that she got off the bus just to let you in! That is the power that you had over people.

My Bollie Cat was the victim of a hit-and-run on 18 December 2000. A neighbour alerted me to him, lying in the middle of the road, still alive but suffering terrible internal injuries. A frantic race to the vet, who advised that Bollie probably wouldn't last the night due to the extent of his injuries. A last visit to him laying in a humidicrib, watching a bird next to him, to tell him how much I loved him and I wanted him to get better.

I cried all the way home, picked up my Ginger cat and cuddled him. I told him what happened to you and we prayed to Bastet, the Egyptian Cat Goddess, to look after our friend. We didn't get any sleep that night and the vet rang first thing in the morning to tell me you had died and I could come and get you. So Bastet took you to the Rainbow Bridge where I know I will meet you again, one day. That was her way of looking after you in answer to our prayers. I brought you home and you were buried under your favourite tree, where you would sit and watch the bird's nest, hoping the babies would fall out of the nest. It took the neighbour over an hour to dig a hole big enough for you. All the while I stroked your fur and talked to you, grief stricken.

The next day, a friend took me to the RSPCA and I brought a little fluffy grey and white kitten home. Not to take your place, because there will only ever be one "Fat Boy Bollie Cat", but to keep Ginger company. I named her Bastie, short for Bastet, to whom Ginger and I had prayed for you. I believe your soul entered her when she came to live with us because there is so much of you in her. Ginger did not like her at all to begin with - we were grieving for you and we still are. But they are slowly becoming friendlier although I know they will never be as close as you and Ginger were.

RIP my Bollie Cat - my beloved person with fur.
I will always love you. You were my "Big Baboo".

In Loving Memory of Bollie.
1995 to December 19, 2000

Copyright © Trish Wescombe
September 21, 2001