A very sad thing happened yesterday, Diesel unexpectedly died. He wasn't old, he wasn't sick, he didn't go outside. Pat woke up in the morning and he was curled up in a ball on the couch fast asleep, but cold and hard.
Let me tell you about Diesel.
At the end of summer 1995 I had just purchased my first 1981 VW Rabbit, diesel engine. The car was at my mother's and I went over to fix the broken thermo switch one late August afternoon. My boyfriend Patrick swung by as I was finishing up and he sat down in the driveway and this wee little kitten all of 6 weeks old came up and sat on his knee. Patrick petted his little head and he sat up proudly and purred. Patrick asked if I wanted to take him home and I said "Sure". (my mother always had lots of kitten running around, so we weren't abducting him)
On the drive home, Diesel just curled up in a ball on my lap and slept. A few weeks later we decided to keep him and Patrick called him Diesel because his purring sounded like the diesel engine in my new car.
As a kitten and as an adult Diesel loved to play games. A particular fondness of his were Rolling Rock beer bottle caps. Much to Patrick's dismay, it was tradition around the house to toss the bottle cap in the floor for Diesel when opening a new bottle. Diesel would play with them for hours - as a kitten he would play fetch for a good 30 minutes at a time - amazing for a cat. Diesel would cutely carry the bottle caps in his mouth as if they were hunted mice. He would also drop the bottle caps in shoes and "hunt" them out. One day Patrick got to work and went to change into his uniform. He put on his shoes, "Ouch!" and found a bottle cap wedged in the toe.
Another favorite game of his was "Walking Across the Room". The apartment was one big long room downstairs (about 12x30 or so), at one end was the kitchen and at the other was the staircase going upstairs. When you would walk into the kitchen, sometimes Diesel would bound after you and then stand on his hind legs waving his arms in the air being all scary. So, you would then walk across the room and hide in the staircase and wait about 30 seconds as Diesel would stalk you hiding behind the couch, the book case and roar! He'd scare you again. He'd play this for 20 minutes at a time. We called his "Walking Across the Room", it's like hide and go seek, but not as clever.
Diesel would also steal various things and hide them in his lair (often behind the water heater in the coat closet) leaving you to go "where did _____ go? It was just here a minute ago..." And then 6 months later he would leave the stolen object on the living room floor in the middle of the night.
Patrick would play this game with him, "Frow The Kitty" where he would gently toss Diesel on the couch. Diesel would run back over to you to get "frowed" again. This was one of his favorites.
He was such a wonderful cat. Very clever, very tolerant and filled with personality. He would walk on a leash. I used to take him to the office with me. In the car he would put his paws on the window sill and look out at the world. I could pick him up and hold him upside down and he never complained. He would wake me up in the morning by gently patting my head with his paw. If I ignored him he would become increasingly persistent, tapping harder and harder and eventually poking me gently with his claws. This was his signal to either "pet me" or "get up and feed me".
Diesel also had a true hacker spirit - he just loved pizza, and didn't ever walk on the keyboard. We also used to share croissants - he would sit on the back of the chair and I would put pieces on my should for him to eat off. When pizza arrived he would stand on the box and dig at the corners until he opened it up to grab the crusts.
I had this song I used to sing to him. To the tune of "You are my Sunshine": You are my kitty, my only kitty/ You make my happy, my kitty-head/ You'll never know kitty, how much I love you/ Please don't take my kitty away.
We had some tender moments. He would curl up on my chest and sleep, and I would just stare at him - look at every piece of fur on his little face and think what a miracle of nature he is, all that DNA to colorize each individual piece of hair to come together in his intricate tiger pattern. I'd look at his perfect little eye lashes, his brick red nose. Every stripe, every spot, every whisker of him I had committed to memory.
It's been an extremely sad 2 days. I sit at work and the hours feel like days. I'm still in shock - I wasn't ready to think about Diesel dying for at least another 5 years. He wasn't even 9 yet. It's hard for me to believe that I won't see him again.
My dear sweet Diesel Head, you were such a clever cat, and just so perfect. Patient, tolerant, respectful, loving. I love you and miss you, and I hope where ever you are in kitty heaven, there is someone to play Walking Across the Room with you.