Farewell to Billy Bob

Our beloved cat Billy Bob was put to sleep this afternoon. He had been slowly failing for several months (we see in retrospect), and reached the critical point on Saturday (two days ago). We took him into the Burnet Road Animal Hospital (where he has many fans), but the treatment he was given did not improve his condition. We had the choice of having him die at home, slowly and inevitably, over the next 48 hours, or ending his suffering quickly. We have chosen the latter.

We will miss him; he was an intelligent, gregarious feline who loved people, scorned dogs, and had his own unique way of doing things. If there is a life beyond this, we know that he is reunited with Richard Beck, who befriended and named Billy Bob in his kittenhood. Mr. Beck was in his 90's when he passed away (just a week before his wife's death), and Billy Bob came to us shortly afterwards.

This cool little dude-cat received pats from many of the neighborhood joggers every evening, and was known to make daily rounds of several back gardens besides our own. We were privileged, however, to be the family that he chose as his own.

Peace to his spirit, wherever it may be.

Billy Bob's Miserable Experience

Hello World, Billy Bob here. I want to report a most insulting situation foisted on my by my humans. I love and respect them and all, but they certainly have no notion of what they have done to me this time.

This afternoon, a sore from a bite wound that I received a few days ago--one that the humans saw only as a crusty place on my ear--broke open. It had swollen a bit, and it was itchy, so I scratched it. Big deal. Except when I scratched it, blood started going everywhere and the humans got quite excited. Blood on the floor of the kitchen. Big deal. I climbed into the bathtub to relax (one of my favorite spots) and they found blood all over there, too. Marilyn started stroking me so that I wouldn't scratch my ear, and Gary got the carrier, and they took me to the 24 hour veterinarian on Lamar. Not my usual doctor and staff (whom I know quite well), but decent folks, I thought.

Well, it turns out that the new veterinarian thought that my scratching was a problem. She gave me this totally ridiculous collar to wear--fits around my head like a dish--so I can't scratch my ear for a week. And I can't go outside either.

I don't know if I'll make it through the week, frankly. And the humans aren't sure either. I feel like a bubblehead--my sleek cat ways of slithering silently from place to place have become a series of big-headed bumbles. And the sheer indignity of my position is an insult to my status as big dude-cat of the world. We are all pretty miserable about this.

Billy Bob Makes a Friend

Billy Bob lived up to his reputation as one of mellowest dude-cats in town yesterday. Seth, the new neighbor across the street, and his little daughter Leila (aged 22 months) came over to our yard for a chat, on one of our first sunny days in ages.

When Leila saw Billy, she was very enthusiastic. She sat down next to him and began giving him a back-rub, in the places he likes most. Billy reciprocated with a friendly purr, and for a while the two of them--little human and big housecat, head-to-head, almost the same size--were involved in a mutual admiration society.

Seth said they used to have a cat that looked a lot like Billy, and Leila was acting as if Billy were an old friend.

Little girls and friendly cats seem to have a mutual affinity. I read recently that scientists believe the cat was self-domesticating, adapting its habits to live among humans without any specific attempts by humans to force it to do so. How did this happen? Maybe little girls (and little boys) were the first to become friends with Billy Bob's ancestors.