Farewelling a fine feline freind, Fred

Fred (born 6 Oct 1997), gone but not forgotten.

• Fitting into a photocopier box (with Ginger and room to spare).
• Walking along the fence for the first time with question-mark tails, and wondering if they'll every come back.
• Chasing around in a circle after a stick.
• Being hit by a car, and wondering if he'll survive. He was so wet and bloody.
• Sleeping on the bed (and especially on top of Lisa)
• Laying on the couch back.
• Sitting in the window looking at the world.
• Catching some sun. He always knew where the heat was.
• Spending time (days) at Maureen's. She misses him too.
• Being very quiet and stealthy.
• Catching birds and rats. A skilled and efficient hunter (when he wanted to be).
• Catching worms (just the once), his (and Ginger's first catch).
• Making us worry; waiting for days for him to turn up (around Maureen's probably); but only in summer.
• Taking over Ginger's place in the letter tray.
• Sleeping on Lisa's in-progress quilts.
• Trotting across the grass; watching him from the living-room window.
• Splashing water all over the place when drinking; dewy droplets on his nose.
• The little scar by his eye.
• His black, black paws.
• His super fine fur that was almost un-combable.
• The funny little trill he would make when hungry.
• Standing on his rear legs, at the bench when food was being served.
• Eventually deciding that sitting on/with people was okay (only in the last eight months).
• Being a old gentleman, and climbing onto furniture, rather than jumping.

You're sadly (and fondly) missed Fred.