It is with great sorrow that I announce the death of my friend Bin at age 19. He was my muse for over a decade of writing. What began as a continuation of an earlier film review blog featuring myself and another species (an imaginary German Shepherd Wagner was the original) broadened into a series of “chats” with Bin entitled Two Guys Talkin’. I was interested in creating a commentary concerning humans and life on Earth through the eyes of another species, in this case, a black cat. Out spun tales of feline history (yep, visiting aliens thought they were worthy enough to be given special powers) and theology (reincarnation is a fact and only our species forget their past lives); view of humanity by all other living beings (eyerolls over the opposable thumbs, militant species whose motto is “the only good human is a dead one”-they are thrilled with Covid); the Christmas Eve fireside chat, reflecting on the past year and encountering Santa; crazy human behavior (bashful apes, he acerbically noted, only copulate in private). This chapter sadly, but inevitably, comes to a close.
C and I met Bin when we bought our house. He was living rough under some shrubs after being abandoned by one of our neighbors. Benny, who lived next door, had been putting out food for him. Bin applied his feline charms on C one day when she was at the house stripping wallpaper. He was quite friendly and a cuddle bug so we decided to adopt him even though we already had 3 cats. His name came from botfly condition he had on his forehead. I thought it looked like an Indian Bindi mark. The name stuck and was further elaborated to Bindiwankatterpi. Certainly, this would be frowned upon in these days of cultural appropriation wokeness, still, much better than his previous name by The Abandoners: the rather trashy and unimaginative “Beemer”. (I once asked Bin about his feline name. You couldn’t pronounce it he replied. Please don’t try, it would hurt my ears)
He was a fierce protector of his turf and earned the title of Director of Homeland Security. Bin was handicapped thanks to the removal of his front fighting claws by the idiot Abandoners. This meant fighting was up close and personal to bring his back claws to bear. There were battles with Mean White cat from two doors down that were of mythic proportion. I witnessed an epic battle between Bin and Russian Blue cat from the cul de sac, at 3am one warm summer morning that went on for a good block until I intervened. Thank goodness, he never took on a wild critter. We were quite lucky in this regard, all our cats gave other critters (other than prey) a wide berth. We were spared a late night tomato juice bath with a howling feline who had unwisely provoked a skunk. Smart katters!
As I mentioned earlier, Bin was quite the cuddle bug who loved lap time with his Mom. Most mornings, he was in competition with Molls for strokes and scritches while C read her emails. This often would result in C getting FPS or feline paralysis syndrome-a non-fatal numbness in the legs. He enjoyed lying on my hip when I was lying on the couch and especially liked licking my fingers (mmmm, had pizza tonight eh?).
It is sad to part with this creature that we have known and loved for 11 years. We hope that we did right by him-providing food, shelter, companionship and affection for the majority of his life. He certainly more than returned in kind. C noted while her three cats who came over from Paris could be considered step-children to me, Bin was of our marriage. We shall miss him and I know he would give my hand a bunt and say that this is the way of things. I’ll see you again on one of the recycles. You worry too much, lad.
Rest well my friend. See you one of these days.
