We love our pets. They make our lives richer, better, more complicated at times (try finding a dog-sitter for Thanksgiving weekend at the last minute), and one of the worst things on earth is when we lose them.
It’s awful when it happens, when we lose one of our own. It’s not supposed to happen with other peoples’ pets.
But it happened this past week to me when Sid died.
Most of you know Sid. He was the light of my dear friend Kate Walker’s life. He waltzed into her house one day and simply took over. There was life Before Sid, and Life During Sid was totally different.
He was the cat who made sitting and writing for hours in an office worthwhile – because, quite simply, he was there.
He could be snoozing on the chair or lying in the window or studying the effects of batting the mouse. It didn’t matter. He was endlessly entertaining – even when he slept.
I ask myself why. I asked Kate why.
Of all her cats, he was the most memorable. Of the four who were there when I first visited, Sid was the one who interacted with us. The others were lovely (well, Dylan, not so much. He was cantankerous and gruff, but he did have his soft spot).
Sid had a whole flabsack of soft spots. He tried to pretend he wasn’t interested in people, but he could never quite pull it off. He was too busy being in the center of things.
I read a book once that said that Maine Coon cats were “middle of the room” cats. If so, Sid was a Maine Coon cat in disguise. More than an Maine Coon cat actually because he wasn’t so much a middle of the room cat, as a “middle of the heart” cat.
You couldn’t help but fall in love with Sid.
I probably had half a dozen visits with Sid in my life. Each one was special. I frequently offered him hospitality on this side of the pond. I told him that the d.o.g.s. would be happy to see him. And they would.
But he’d done his wandering as a youth, and when he got to Kate’s, he made up his mind that that was where home was, and he wasn’t about to stray. So he never visited in person (in cat). But he frequently dropped into my email in-box.
He had a way with words, did Sid. He had Opinions and Views, and he didn’t hesitate to articulate them. He also had Standards – and he worked hard to bring Flora and Chaz (that’s Charlie) up to the mark. He never bothered to try with Dylan. Even Sid had his limits, and there are just some cats you know you can’t shape up.
I will miss his correspondence. There will be no more letters from Sir Sidney St John Willoughby Eamonn Portly-Lummox, DLitt Oxon, Bart., Earl of Blubberhouses and I forget what else (HE never forgot).
I will miss the new and wonderful photos that Kate would send when he was feeling photogenic. One year he sent me a calendar called A Year Of Sid – with a photo of Himself for each month. I still have it. I cherish it.
I also have a t-shirt with his picture on it (Can you tell that Sid didn’t need a marketing department. He had self-promotion down pat – not that he needed it. He got plenty of ear rubs and head scratches just by being himself). I have been wearing Sid’s t-shirt a lot these last few weeks because it made me feel closer to him.
He was, he used to tell me, A Cat of Superior Breeding. He even had an email address that was, in part, SidACOSB, 
because, well, why wouldn’t he?
But the truth is, he wasn’t A Cat of Superior Breeding. He was THE Cat. The one and only.
He’s left a Sid shaped hole in all parts of Kate’s life.
He’s left a Sid-shaped hole in my heart.
