On the 17th of March my parents felt it was time to get a new cat. I decided to go visit my parents that afternoon and luckily when I arrived they were just about to set off to the cat rescue centre, the same cat rescue centre that we got from Bogart from back in 2000. Although by this stage it had moved a few miles down the road. My parents had picked out the nosiest cat in the entire shelter. He was a stray that spent the first part of his life on the streets of Cupar, occasionally visiting a family that fed and looked after him. Unfortunately, he fought with the other cats they owned so he ended up at the Whinnybank Cat Sanctuary near Newburgh.
When we went to pick him up there was a certain sense of apprehension on both sides. He was apprehensive because he'd just been forced into a cat box and put into the back of a car. For a cat, the drive from near Newburgh to Pitscottie must have seemed like a hellish eternity, as such, he spent the entire drive meowing and trying desperately to escape his caged nightmare.
My apprehension came from the fact that I wasn't sure if I was ready to let another cat into my life so soon after the death of Bogart. I was wrong though, this guy was so adorable and so loving that even someone who hates cats would find it hard not to have fallen for his charms. The first thing he was allowed to do was explore the house and have a good look around. After taking a quick look in the all the rooms he quickly returned to whichever room people were in. To begin with he was very insecure and had to know where everyone was. He did get better though but at heart he was always a people's cat and loved being around anyone that would grant him the attention he deserved.
It took us a while but we eventually came up with a name. I wanted Nelson and my brother wanted Dexter. The final result in the debate led us to the name Remus. I wasn't sure where it came from so I looked it up online. Turns out Remus was one of the founders of Rome. As such he would have a lot of work to do if he were to live up to his namesake. He may not have been able to built any cities but he was able to build up a friendship with us all with little difficulty. His cute antics and strange ways of sleeping were a delight to view. He often slept on his back which is the first I've ever seen of a cat doing so.
Like with introducing any cat to a new home, there were teething problems. He managed to destroy part of the fabric on both the couch and two chair covers in the living room because he liked to sharpen his claws on them. With that being said, he was a very intelligent cat and he learned very quickly not to do so. He had opening doors down to a tee within a day and he would watch me opening and closing the fridge, all the time pondering over how I did it so that one day he may learn to do it as well.
Unlike Bogart, Remus wasn't scared of anything. A pan being dropped makes a loud noise that would send most cats running a mile but not him. He was never phased by such trivialities. Maybe this was down to the fact that he was built like an Ox. His front half was all muscle which overall, gave him an odd shape. He was big and bulky at the front but he narrowed a lot as you went further back. Most cats when they rub their head against something will go in an almost circular motion but not him, he had to fight it till he realised the object in question wasn't going to back down. If you brought your head down to his level he'd either head butt you if he was walking or lick your nose if he was sitting down.
He didn't have a loud purr which was the opposite to Bogart who purred like a machine but when you gave him affection you could still tell he was enjoying every second of it and the look of love in his eyes was wonderful to see again, both so soon after Bogart's death and so quickly after we got him. He'd very much made himself at home with us and just wanted to be treated as if he'd always been with us. He hated to be left alone and when we first had to put him out at night he meowed and meowed. He got used to the routine though and it only made him even happier to see us again the next morning.
Shortly after we'd got him, he picked up the cat flu which is apparently brought on by stress, so in his case, having to move. We took him to the vets and he got over it quick enough. He was soon back to his active and loving self. Shortly after he was allowed to go outside and explore for the first time. I wasn't there at the time but he darted off into the neighbours garden and further beyond. My mum was worried that he wouldn't come back but sure enough, after an hour we heard a familiar meow return to the house as he announced his presence. He'd found a home he knew he'd be happy in.
The outside World brought in new challenges for him, namely in the form of a white and orange farm cat from up the road who had moved in after Bogart died. The two quickly met and fights occurred frequently after this. He'd always come back with yet another wound on his head but looking at the piles of white fur we saw in the garden, he gave back worse that what he received. This fighting almost led to his downfall when we noticed that he had no energy and was off his food. There was no way we were ready to go through that again so once again, he had to visit the vets.
The first thing he did when in the vets was jump off the table and try and open the door through to where the vet kept all his medicines. He absolutely hated it there and spent his entire fidgeting and trying to escape. The funniest moment there had to be when he had to have his temperature taken. My dad was stroking his head to comfort him. When the thermometer went up his arse he lurched forward, let out a pained meow and bit my dad. This was the only time he ever lashed out and considering the circumstances, I think he was justified in doing so. The look he gave the vet when he went to get him a second injection was priceless. If looks could kill...
The diagnosis was that he'd probably caught an infection from one of the wounds he sustained when fighting. I don't know what was in those injections but they almost brought him back to his usual self within a few hours. He was once again full of love, affection and action. The next few weeks was the time I felt we really started bonding as friends and yes, I consider a cat I have not only to be a friend but a full member of the family because they really do grow to mean that much to you.
By this stage I was spending more time in Pitscottie as opposed to Dundee purely so that I could see him. A few days ago I finished work early and rather than spending the afternoon in Dundee by myself, I went back to visit him. We sat outside in the sun at the top of the garden and lounged around. I noticed a long stick on the ground so I picked it up and he started playing with it. Once he'd grabbed it out of my hand he put the stick in his mouth and tried to snap it with his jaw. It was brilliant fun to watch and he seemed to be really enjoying himself.
The next evening he spent most of his time sitting on the couch relaxing and being friendly. Around 10 in the evening he clocked a moth trying to fly towards the light on the other side of the window. He went from resting to active in a split second as he ran across to the windowsill and jumped up. He watched the moth fly around for a few minutes before it came down to the bottom of the window. Once this had happened he started swatting at it in the vain hope he'd be able to get it but as I said earlier, he's a quick learner so after one failed attempt to get it he gave up and came back to the couch.
I guess it was his age but he was such a playful boy. He would knock the stops off the bottom of the radiator in the kitchen and bat them around the room. He was given a toy mouse that he enjoyed batting around the floor and kicking with his feet. There was nothing he couldn't make amusement from, ranging from real toys to things he found around the house.
On the morning of the 21st of April, exactly five weeks after we'd got him he greeted us a dead rabbit. He was so proud of himself for catching it, although we had to take the rabbit outside so that it didn't mess up the house. Once it was outside he came back in and revealed a second rabbit from behind his chair so once again we had to take it outside. This also meant putting the door on the cat flap down so that he couldn't get back in again but because of his intelligence level he was able to nudge the door out of it's holding and use his upper body strength to force the flap open. Thus returning his catch to where he felt it belonged. It was so much fun to watch him outsmart us on every turn. I had to go to work that day but it was only a half shift so I was done by lunch time. I told him I'd see him again in a few hours.
1pm came and I drove home in order to spend a few hours with him before I returned to Dundee. I remember the drive home vividly. There was no-one in front of me so I got a clear run all the way home but when I returned I received the most painful shock of my life. It was a shock that I was certainly not prepared for and I just didn't want it to be real.
There he was, lying dead by the side of the road.
At first my mind was doing everything it could to convince me it wasn't him. I pulled onto the drive just enough so that I was off the road, got out of the car and ran over to him. The full impact of what I was witnessing was kicking in. In a panicked and shocked state, I picked him up off the road and carried him up the driveway dreading both what I was seeing and having to tell my mum who'd formed an even stronger bond with him than I had. I laid him on the grass at the top of the drive and ran into the house, my hands still covered in blood, to tell her what had happened. I can say without a doubt that it was the darkest moment in my life and it's something I never want to experience ever again or have anyone else experience.
We sat by him for a good few minutes, the realism of the situation sinking in more with every passing second. My mum took it very badly and had tears streaming down her face. Since I was the one who found him I was more in shock and after I'd sat down I found it hard to get back up again because my legs had turned to rubber. I could barely walk. The tears weren't far behind.
The next step was to find a box big enough for him and dig a grave. We went down to a patch of the garden that's rarely used so rarely disturbed, just along from where Bogart is buried. The last thing I had in mind for that afternoon was digging a grave for a young cat in the prime of his life. We placed him carefully into the grave and said our final goodbyes. It was a heartbreaking moment and one that'll linger with me for so much longer than the five weeks we were lucky enough to have him for.
We'll never know why he decided to go down to the road. There are two theories, the first is that I've seen his nemesis, the white cat, marking territory down there and he was spotted down there earlier in the day. This may have led him down to that point. The second is that there are a lot of rabbits in that part of the garden so he may have been down there looking for a meal. We'll never know the reason and the driver that hit him never stopped either so we don't even have their story to fill in the blanks. However, like I said with Bogart, it's not his death we should focus on, rather the life he had, even though it was cut so short, so tragically.
Even though we only had him the five weeks, I think his death has upset me more due to it's sudden onset and unexpectedness. With Bogart we had months to say goodbye as he slowly became ill and although his death was horribly upsetting, it was natural as he died of old age. Remus, on the other hand didn't deserve to go out like that. He had so much love and so much potential and it's all been wasted because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time for a split second.
I'm going to miss you, my friend, more than you'll ever know. Thanks for five amazing weeks. I'll never forget you.
