Bob

It's one of those weeks apparently.

First there was Boomer. Then there was Madeleine L'Engle. Now there's Bob.

You can read a tribute to Bob by his dearly beloved Kate Walker on her own blog today. Suffice it to say here that Bob was a very fine cat indeed.

He was the alpha cat at Kate's house, not because he was bigger than any other cat or smarter than any other cat or more arrogant than any other cat. He wasn't even a billionaire tycoon cat.

He was the respected elder. He was the one who knew not only how things were, but How They Should Be. He was the arbiter of life in the household. Spiff is kind and gallant, Dylan is feisty and a bit of a rogue, Sid is swagger and headbutts and oodles of charm.

Bob was all about respect. He was a minimalist sort of cat. He didn't have to do anything more than Be. And that was enough. He got the job done with a minimum of fuss. Want a mouse? Right. Bob would get you a mouse. Want a bird? No problem. Want these papers sat on so they don't blow away? Can do.

He didn't throw his weight around (he didn't have any to throw). And he wouldn't have anyway. It wasn't his nature. He had The Look. And even Sid backed off that look.

Last time I visited Bob I took some bags of greenies for him and his cohorts. It's the only time I saw Bob deliberately say, Back Off to his feline friends. The greenies were his. He liked them and that was that.

He also decided he liked me more than he did BG (before greenies) because every morning I would awaken to hear him under the bed -- the sound of a rusty carburetor turning over. And over. And then when he was sure I was awake, he scaled the quilt and climbed on the bed. Then he poked until he convinced me to roll onto my back, whereupon he planted himself on top of me and continued the carburetor tune-up. As an alarm clock, Bob had no equal.

Kate said he was at peace now. He could be. He could also be telling off those fecking so-and-sos who made such a botch of things that he knew should be run better. I think heaven will be better run now that Bob is there. I feel sure the mice and birds will be paying closer attention.

Spiff, Dyl and Sid will have their work cut out for them taking over Bob's jobs.

But no one will ever take over being Bob. No one could.