Home > Creative Writing, Culture, Manhood, Prose > Powder the Proud

Powder the Proud

August 12th, 2009
Powder and Grrr

Powder and Grrr

He lived a hearty fourteen years. I found him in the dumpster outside the Benedictine Nursing Center in Mt. Angel. It’s been a very fun life to watch play out in the span of my own, and one that touched me daily – so I figure a small eulogy is in order.

Powder was the quintessential hunter, and as demonstrated by the photos (he is of course the one that nearly blends into the white of the wall), of all our cats, he was the most tolerant of new comers (and of course old timers). He is the only cat I know that has taken a raven on the wing. No mean feat! The raven was dive bombing all the cats (both ours and the neighborhood visitors) sunning in our back yard, and Powder watched with interest from the shrubs. On about the tenth or eleventh pass of the raven, Powder performed a five and a half foot vertical leap (at least), wrapped all four paws around the bird that seemed nearly as big as him, and broke its neck on the way down… and calmly walked away from the trophy. Looking smug. No, really.
Powder and Lladro

Powder and Lladro

The doc said that “leapers” like Powder tend to have their hips fall apart on them, and certainly, by the end of his life he was hobbling around the best he could. My incredible wife carefully switched his diet from crunchy to soft as he started losing his teeth, we had a bit in common Powder and I… Today, partly because of an infected scratch, but mostly because he was getting to the point that it was difficult to eat and drink, we took him to the vet and put him down. My wife, my youngest daughter (now almost 21), and myself watched as the vet used anesthesia to put him to sleep, to drift off to he-man cat Valhalla. We all cried like school girls… which is ok for my wife and daughter, they were once school girls. Couldn’t help it, I hated to see him go. Though he didn’t die in battle, he was quite the warrior… and he was mine.

Categories: Creative Writing, Culture, Manhood, Prose Tags:
  1. Carrie Dahl
    August 12th, 2009 at 11:36 | #1
    Reply | Quote

    I am so sorry! He looks just like my cat Mary Jane! She is completely white, and she is so protective it’s funny. But anyway if you guys need anything get ahold of me!

  2. The Skald
    August 12th, 2009 at 12:36 | #2
    Reply | Quote

    Thanks Carrie – I appreciate it 🙂

  3. Christine Hutchinson
    August 12th, 2009 at 13:02 | #3
    Reply | Quote

    Rest In Peace Powder. Healing hugs,Christine

  4. The Skald
    August 12th, 2009 at 14:02 | #4
    Reply | Quote

    Thanks Christine. Appreciative hugs, Steven.

  5. John
    August 12th, 2009 at 18:48 | #5
    Reply | Quote

    Sorry to hear about Powder. We just went through the same thing recently, and yes, it was “my” cat too. Just take comfort in knowing that with you and your family, Powder had a pretty good life.

  6. The Skald
    August 12th, 2009 at 19:16 | #6
    Reply | Quote

    @John

    It seems a little weird – I just didn’t want him dying in the dumpster so I took him home. The little one in the picture is another “rescue.” After 14 years the little guy just kind of grew on me. Wasn’t sure whether to actually post something like that, but what the heck. Thanks John, nice to commiserate a little bit. 😉

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: