|Bart and The Boy, who wore goggles to bed, a few years ago|
Fifteen years ago Bart and his sister Lisa, who we lost in January of this year, came to us as rescue kittens from our local shelter. They were twelve weeks old and two little fur balls of pure joy! From the moment we met him, Bart was a cuddler. He was a lap hopper. When we had company he made the rounds to everyone who would have him. We have a friend who is quadriplegic; the first time they came over, Bart jumped up on her lap like he'd been invited. Thankfully, she was delighted by the attention and pet him as best she could. Bart used to follow us around meowing, telling us he was ready for a lap and that we were now supposed to sit down to create one for him. His meow almost sounded like he was saying "m-lap?" He was often disappointed.
|Bart and Lisa|
However, occasionally, he couldn't be found for weeks! Bart had multiple families and everyone knew him by name. We'd be in the backyard and hear someone behind us and couple doors down greet him, "Hey, Bart!" For a while we had neighbors who fed him canned food, which he obviously preferred to the dry kibble at home, and got upwards of 17 lbs. The Captain starting calling him "Big Oaf." Like we did his sister's, we'll keep his collar and tag as a reminder of the love he brought to our home.
The Captain couldn't sleep the night before last. It was his first night back home in more than a week and he was up until 01:00. Yesterday afternoon, March 21st, he picked up his 15 year old buddy and they took a nap on his easy chair. An hour or so after The Captain moved Bart back to his nest, Bart passed away, content in having had his master's lap all to himself one last time. We'll bury him next to Lisa and mark his grave in the same manner, with a concrete and bead stepping stone with this name.