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“why yes, Sir, but I have had cats whom I liked better than this;” and then as if perceiving Hodge to be out of countenance, adding, “but he is a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed.” Her appearance improved after her tail had been amputated, she had put on some weight, and her tortoise-shell fur grew soft again. Never, though, would she be considered beautiful. Perhaps that is why no decent picture could be found in Linda’s extensive archives. At first standoffish, The UgWump became after a few years aggressively affectionate, demanding as her right the seat next to Jim by the computer, as well as a favored spot on the couch in front of the TV, and the thin sliver of mattress between Jim and Linda. She brooked no argument, either from human companions or the other two felines that she grudgingly shared space with. Her hearing, never the best, deteriorated to the point of deafness, and her howling grew increasingly loud, an insistent demand for attention that often unnerved guests. One Tuesday in September, Jim returned from tennis to find her dead, lying curled up as though asleep by the door from the garage into the house. We miss her. |
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