Everyday we grow father from our time in Paris: everything we learned, fell in love with, experiences that changed our foundations. We were left with a handful of tangible items, enormous files of photos, and slowly fading memories. So, every time we lose something related to France, it packs a little extra punch of pain, but this one feels like the gods went below the belt.
Our ragtag group of feline family were very much a part of our time overseas. They were our mascots along for the ride across the pond and showed us how resilient animals, and people, could be. Many of our favorite stories revolved around them and the things they experienced while sitting in our little flat, overlooking the church across the street, so as we slowly started losing them one by one, it became more and more painful.
Our last man standing, our Red Rat, our Baron, our Asshole-with-a-heart-of-gold, our Vorenus passed away on June 15th, 2023 once again in our arms like the others. He had several medical issues, including a lipoma tumor that was supposed to be harmless, but ended up being the cause of his departure. The tumor had ulcerated and was scheduled to be removed on the 23rd. Our vet gave him an antibiotic shot to help until the surgery could be done, but an infection still set in the week before and his behavior drastically changed. Our defiant little monster was hiding, curled into a tiny ball, in the bookshelf. I knew something was terribly wrong. Due to his old age and other medical conditions, the vet advised it would be the right thing to do. It would have been almost impossible to get him healthy enough to have the tumor removed while fighting that infection. As brokenhearted as we were, we agreed.
Vorenus’s villain origin story started at CAP animal shelter in Houston, where he was left tied to the handle of the door alone by his previous owner… whom I hope has since been hit by a bus. I had went to the shelter looking for an orange cat, since I missed having one around after loosing my previous one earlier that year. Orange cats are special. They have multi-faceted personalities ranging from single brain cell “intelligence” to diabolical genius. They also give the best cuddles. When we brought him home, he was such a raging asshole to our other cats, that we took him back to the shelter a month later. Very soon after they posted a photo of him online showing he was at the shelter instead of a foster home like they had said, we went back, sobbing, and shoving donations at them to let us take him back. We are soft-hearted people when it comes to animals and neither one of us had ever given one up before. Needless to say, he became a permanent fixture in our family.
With time, Red mellowed and became less of a jerk to the others, reveling some interesting qualities.
He was an exceptional film critic and would often sit as close as possible to the TV and stare if whatever we were watching earned his stamp of approval. Although, he loved The Witcher, but everyone makes mistakes sometimes.
He was a mother to a tiny Pomeranian and later a psychotic kitten. I still remember our dog looking at him in awe with all his red floof and following him around completely enamored as a puppy.
He was a master manipulator and decided after raising the dog from pup-hood, that he had raised a worthy adversary and went on to ruin Ye’s calm on a daily basis. He would look around to make sure no one was watching, slink up to where the dog was sticking his nose out from under the couch, bop it to get him to come out rage barking and then gleefully run away as William yelled at the dog to be quiet. That cat loved getting the dog in trouble.
He was a lover and when he curled up with you, he would purr as loud as he could while flexing and relaxing his little paws making you feel so very loved. There are no cuddles that can match the healing quality of Red cuddles.
He was a secret agent, perhaps with MI6 but who knows? While in Paris, he had a large crow handler that would come visit him daily on the balcony. God forbid we ever had the shutters down, for that bird would scream outside waiting to pass on his time sensitive information to Vorenus. We often wonder if that crow murdered the next tenants of that flat once we stole his friend.
He was a great conversationalist and would chat with you happily. Every morning, we would be greeted by his scratchy meows as he lead us to the table for breakfast. If you asked him questions, he would answer. If he had an issue, he had zero problem letting us all know how he felt.
He was a lover of plants but only for chewing on. He would sneak onto the table to get as close to a vase of flowers as possible before unhinging his jaw and slowly taking a nibble hoping he was so stealthy, I would not see. He would pine over the small Christmas tree we kept on the bookshelf out of his reach and cost me $95 on the poison hotline to see if he was going to die from munching on one of my house plants.
He was a baked good connoisseur and was responsible from maiming the life-changing bagels we bought for Geep, multiple baguette ends, and a few croissants. Though, if you asked him, it was for our safety he tried them first.
He was a massive prick and would annoy us, the other animals, and sometimes even himself just for funzies. We would sometimes let him do something “bad” to make him feel accomplished so he would leave us alone.
He was a gold-medal projectile puker and defaced all manner of items in our home while practicing: blinds all the way from the top, carpets from up above through the railing, full arm lengths of the couch.
He was an anger shitter who would weaponize his bowel movements if he was mad enough at us. Though, this started after he was diagnosed with mega colon, so he may get a pass on this one. I am a firm believer that he used his aliment as an excuse for his bad behavior.
He had a foot fetish and could be found face first, rolling around, huffing the scent of my shoes in plain sight. He had no shame.
He was a many-named man. By our counts, he had the most names out of all of our pets, even beating out Fezzik for the top prize. Thanks to his dynamic personality, some of those nicknames were more colorful than others (Ex. Baron Douche-Face Von Pecker Lips).
But most of all, he was ours.
As frustrating as he could be as he grew older and his health began to slowly decline, we loved him beyond words. Losing him was different since we saw this one coming as opposed to Fezzik and Aurora, but no less painful and quite possibly worse.
The house is suffering from his absence and the quiet is deafening. Hera keeps looking for him and crying when she cannot find him and the dog is more glum than usual. But us? The humans? A little more of France died inside of us as we lost our last of the three. A little more of our hearts went black as we lost another family member. The future looks a little more bleak without the Red Rat rolling around the floor with his favorite shrimp toy
So, cheers to my little trouble makers, who will give me trouble no more.
Oh, how I would give every cent I have to hear you howl at our door.
Goodbye my three sweet friends, we miss you every single day.
I hope you find each other, stay warm, sleep and play.
And we hope most to see you again when it’s our time to cross through that door.
Until then, know in our hearts, we couldn’t have loved you more.
Fezzik In Paris 