And Then There was One… September 25

In 2009, The Crouchers came to live here. They were four feral kittens born in University City. Friends named Crouch (hence the collective appellation) trapped, vaccinated and fixed the youngsters, opting NOT to have their ears cropped in hopes that would make them more likely to find homes. Alas, they were almost impossible to place, being feral, so they came here, to be barn cats. The Crouchers came with names. Wedge was the bravest, first to allow me to touch him, and an adventurer. Twizzler was very handsome, but the most neurotic and suspicious. Only in old age did he become comfortable with us. Licorice was a free spirit, and never became tame. In her old age, she accepted daily food, but in her youth she disappeared for weeks at a time. Skittle was the runt, and very attached to Twizzler, but a sweet soul, and she became friendly despite Twizzler’s horror of humans.

First to depart was Wedge. Perhaps his courage got him into trouble somehow, we will never know. I like to imagine that he ventured to someone’s door and lived his life out in a happy house. He was gone in 2010.

The arrival of The Crouchers did cause some upheaval in the cat population here. Queeny went to live in a mansion in Chicago, having been found, recently weaned of a litter of kittens, in Queeny Park several years before. She much preferred a fancy house to being a common barn cat. Katy (who was a boy), was found on the Katy Trail, near Boonville, on a bike trip with Sharon and Jane. We found three kittens on the Katy Trail that year. First “my” Katy, then another pair a day later near Rhineland. All three of us had a Katy cat after that bike trip, all named Katy. My Katy was a confirmed outdoor guy, and he moved to rural Williamsburg, Missouri to live with a horse friend. Queeny and Katy were not pleased with the arrival of the Crouchers, but they both “landed on their feet” as lucky cats will.

After Wedge disappeared, the three remaining Crouchers lived happily in their barn, accepting newcomers better than they had been accepted. Life was good.

Last year, Twizzler “shuffled off this mortal coil”, a victim of kidney failure. I’m sure he blamed me for his death, that’s the sort of paranoid cat he was. I missed him though, and Skittle was bereft. She has adapted, but I think she still wishes he would return.

Licorice has not been well recently. I have worried about what do, knowing that any intervention would only be to hasten her ending with a traumatic capture. I decided to “let Nature take its course”, as my parents liked to say. In the end, we all take that last journey alone, and Licorice was a loner all her life. For the past week, she came to meals, and watched, but didn’t partake. Three days ago, she looked very poorly. That was the last time I saw her, and she is missing, presumed dead. I hope she slipped away before the bad storms.

And now, Skittle is the last remaining Croucher. She is deaf, but happy enough in her hayloft, where she can overlook life in the barn aisle.

This has been a post by a childless cat lady… R.I.P. Licorice.

Be safe, be well, love all creatures. Slava Ukraini! Peace.