An Ode to a Good Feline

This is a painful thing to write.

I know it is never easy when a pet dies. But there are certain, special animals that enter your life and leave a profound mark.

In this case, it was Salem;

AKA the Beast, aka BEASTMODE, the Sultan, the beefy boy, and all of his other aliases that did so little to exalt his existence.

Salem was, seemingly, your typical British shorthair: a black-and-white tuxedo cat, all cuddles, all purrs, and massive (at his peak he weighed 18 lbs!).

He was huge — long from head to tail — and strong, with paws like boxing gloves.

When we first picked him up (along with his diminutive little sister, Selena), Rich and I had just gotten our first apartment together in Ashford, Kent. We knew we wanted pets, and we knew, in particular, that we really wanted kittens.

I had never had a kitten before. Not kittens in the truest sense — almost all of my cats had been slightly older, roughly a year old or close to it. Not the tiny, fluffy, mewing ones.

We scoured the internet looking for the perfect pair, and eventually landed on a home – some farm – outside Maidstone. When we arrived, we found a full litter, overseen by a tiny dog and a grey female cat (apparently the mother), who seemed entirely unbothered by the chaos.

The dog, as it turned out, was the real mother. At least according to the man trying to offload the kittens.

“Really,” he said, “these cats were kind of raised by a dog.” (I often wondered if that was why these cats were so wonderful).

All of the kittens were black and white, or some mix of the two. Salem –  birth name Bear, so named for his already impressive size, was the first born.

“That cat,” the Maidstone man added, “is going to be huge. He pushes all the other kittens out of the way to get to the milk. He doesn’t care.”

We loved him immediately, along with the runt of the litter, the sweet little Selena (birth name Patch, due to the swirliness of her belly).

That was sometime in the autumn of 2012 — an incredible thirteen-and-a-half years ago. In the years since, he has stood by me every step of the way. When I was “administratively removed” from the UK, it was Salem – and Selena – that I missed most (aside from Rich, of course!), and coming home to the Beast felt like coming home properly.

And like some Roman centurion, when Katherine was born, Salem took up his post immediately, keeping a watchful eye on Katherine when I felt alone,  amidst the darkest days after giving birth to her during the pandemic.

In the end, he was there.

He was there by our side as Katherine first learned to roll over,

then crawl,

then stand up,

then walk.

He was there.

He was there, sitting patiently by her side as she covered his fur in stickers.

He was there when Katherine played with dolls.

He was there when Katherine painted.

And last night again, he was there one last time:  a final cuddle beside her, as Katherine played.