I’ve been putting writing this post for over a week now, but I think it’s time I did so. You may remember our cat of 17 years, Basta. I’ve mentioned him a couple of times and he indirectly features in my author bio as one of the two cats who were fighting with the wee one for my lap.
I’m afraid that Basta has now crossed over the rainbow bridge, as the strange euphemism goes. After coming back from our holidays, we found him in a weakened state and had to nurse him back to health.
We assumed that Basta was simply feeling the weight of his 17 years and soon seemed to be back to his old (pun intended) self. Unfortunately, a few days later, he suffered a stroke, probably the second one (the first one going unnoticed, as we were away), and was largely unresponsive by the time we took him to the doctor. He passed shortly afterward.
Basta came into our lives on August 2, 2002, the date when we moved into our new house. He jumped into one of the flower pots we were getting ready to carry to the new place and refused to leave, even as we put it into the car. Having no cat at the time, we decided to keep him. At the time, he was a tiny kitten who could fit in my palm.
Here are a couple some more photos of him:
Basta is survived by Izzy, the dog, and Perro, our second cat. Sadly enough, Perro (who’s purring on my lap as I type this) is in poor health himself. The sarcoma we had removed four months ago has reappeared on the exact same spot and looks decidedly aggressive: in the last week alone, it has doubled in size. We’re now waiting to operate on him to have it removed–again. It’s anyone’s guess for how long we’ll be able to keep doing this, as he’s not exactly a spring chicken himself.
Which is why I’m leaving you with this meme: