Eulogy for Bart

Bart died early this morning. He was one of our neighborhood cats who adopted us as family (though I'm sure he had others, too).

When he came inside the house, he'd climb into your lap, up into your arms, and flop over, so he'd be held like a baby. And frequently he'd meow at my bedroom door in the middle of the night just so someone would pet him while he ate.

Outside, he had a different story. He acted like he didn't know us if we came together then, like the teenage boy who doesn't want to acknowledge the grownups, 'cause he has his reputation to consider.

Yesterday Art found him lying by the car. Bart didn't move, so we put him in the house. Art kept an eye on him during the day, and Bart seemed to move between in front of the couch and behind the couch, walking just a few feet before falling down. Our daughter left us a note this morning, saying that everytime she'd turned off the light, Bart cried, so she ended up just leaving it on.

I do feel honored that Bart came to us, that he felt safe enough with us. And that he didn't have to die in the dark. We will miss him.