20/10/2020
Our hearts are broken, even though we saw it coming. Yup, another cat eulogy.
And so it is, in this terrible year of 2020, that the reign of Ziti Gruntpig, first of her name, ends. She has left us to cross, then surely rule, the Rainbow Bridge. She of the iron paw, tormenter of cats, lover of foam balls, wearer of not one, not two, but three bells to warn unsuspecting cats of her stalking approach.
Ziti was born on the streets of Dorchester, a Dwarfcat without a proper meowbox and one good eye. She was our first foster cat and I was relieved when she was immediately adopted to a large and happy family….. who’s things she would p*e on every day until they returned her to Nevins Farm. We took her back (she never once did this with us) and we’ve been her subjects ever since.
Among Ziti’s favorite things were baking up fresh grunts to strangely vocalize while she carried her ball around which would lead every houseguest asking, “What the hell is that sound?” She also enjoyed lying in wait for her housemates, throwing violent haymakers, mounting the other cats in victory, and general bullying. Paradoxically, she loved to cuddle cats and had no sense of personal cat boundaries. Unsolicited baths were not unheard of.
What she loved most was me.
A Cancer survivor, semi feral Ziti was Queen of House Ferrara for ten years, many of which were shared with her best friend Fluff. We will miss her, but Bishop Shmootz will decidedly not. Godsp*ed, Gruntpig.
