It’s been a very quiet week down here at Wadi Wranglers’ Wranch after our loss last weekend of our beloved “Old Man”, mummy’s “Little Man”, our precious baby boy Louis. After a 17-year journey with mummy full of amazement, wonder, adventure, challenge, change and, most importantly, love and a nearly 4 year negotiation with the demands of cancer, Louis decided to call time and take his final cuddle in mummy’s arms.
Now, I realise that to most people the phrase “my cat died” ranks up there with “my dog ate my homework”, so, instead of posting loads of photos of my cat, I thought I might share a few of the experiences we had together.
I brought Louis home from the Sydney RSPCA when he was 11 weeks old.
When Louis was little he loved to bring home enormous buttery croissants from the bakery next door.
Like Bambi on a frozen lake, Louis liked to sprawl on the neighbour’s skylight, shouting at them until they let their cat out to play.
When I came home from work, Louis would run up the street to meet me.
Louis loved to play fetch with a plastic bag tied in a knot.
Louis always slept on the pillow beside me, nestled into my hair, snuggled into my face, often stretching his arm across me.
When we lived in London, we travelled by motorcycle, Louis tucked into his cat bag across my knees wearing his own little goggles. When we arrived home and parked the bike, I would unzip the cat bag so he could pop his head up, goggles already pushed up on top of his head and, after jumping down from the bike, we walked side by side to our 1st floor flat.
One night, I brought Louis in for bedtime to find a big red lipstick kiss on his forehead.
Louis was a voracious hunter and brought me many little gifts including mice left right where my bare feet would find them in the morning, birds specially arranged after he found their internal explosion button leaving feathers in a 2-meter radius, croissants, buttered rolls and spring rolls.
Louis made it very clear when he didn’t like my date.
In Venice, Louis visited the Guggenheim Gallery, St Mark’s Basilica and enjoyed a walk with superhero daddy along the Grand Canal.
In Sydney, we lived on a river. Louis would sit facing upriver in the mornings getting hugs and kisses from the river residents walking the trail in front of our house as they left for work. In the afternoons, Louis would sit facing the path entrance, waiting for his welcome home hugs and kisses from everyone as they returned at the end of their work day.
Louis loved to go camping and after a big day of bush-bashing and sight-seeing he would join me for dinner beside the camp stove and then snuggle into my sleeping bag for the night. ….of course there was that time deep in the Italian forest, as Superhero daddy and Louis took their morning tinkle in the woods, we were all almost shot by a hunter who mistook us for the autumn wild piglets he was after…..
Louis and Superhero daddy bonded over meat snacks straight from the fridge.
We travelled across the Nullabor together on our drive from Perth to Sydney, cuddled into warm electric blankets in cold hotel room beds and watched whales with their white calves feeding in the safety of the Australian Bite, all the time Louis snuggled in my arms.
Louis was the patriarch of the Tribe, always in control of the monsters and beasties.

Age: 17 years and 6 months’ish

Countries visited or lived in: Australia, England, France, Italy, Austria, Germany, Belgium, back to England, back to Australia and, finally, Oman.

What I’ll miss most: His hugs and carrying him to bed every night.
I know I am greater for the 17 years I shared with this remarkable being. Now, I am less, left to experience this world without him.

My beloved Louis, November 1998 – May 2016.
Keep on Wrangling!