Three years ago today, my friend Bear-Bear died. I don’t mention the BB as much as I do Tungsten, who died about a year later. Tungsten was my first cat, someone with whom I had a special connection. But Bear-Bear was special, too, and I miss him.
He was a foster-cat, whom I should have adopted at the end. He died of what I believe was cancer. He became more and more sick, eventually refused his food, and died at the veterinary hospital. He was with me for ten months.
The things that impressed me most about the BB was that he was hostile to no one. I can’t recall hearing him hiss. Tungsten disliked any feline who did not do as she wanted; that was her prerogative as a top-cat. Even Tucker and Renn hiss at other cats from time to time. But Bear-Bear was accepting to all, and wanted to be accepted by all in return.
He spoke almost conversationally, usually with a “raa”, though occasionally, he would give a “rao” with the tone of mild astonishment. It was difficult to believe that he was ever frightened or upset when he talked like that.
Bear-Bear came and went, passing through my life relatively swiftly. But he left behind memories of a pleasant, cheerful cat who merely wanted to be everyone’s friend. Whether or not he achieved that, he became my friend. I miss him.