No, not just a good cat. Cuddles was the best cat. Oh I know, everyone who has a cat loves it the most and oohs and ahs and believes it's the best cat. But I'm not a cat person. I like dogs. Cats have no guilt, shame, or the kind of dependency we humans exhibit. Dogs do. Dogs know how to say, "I'm sorry." They know how to say, "Wow hi. I missed you." That's why I'm a dog person. But this cat was different. I respected and loved this cat, even thought he loved me no more than anyone else who petted him, fed him, or gave him a soft chest to dig his claws into.

When they were kittens, Diana took him and his sister, Midnight, from a farm up in Honeywood some 12 years ago. The next year the two of them had the baby, Pebbles. That's the way it is with cats. Pebbles is a neurotic, needy, selfish, desperate cat. That's the way it is with inbreeding. But Cuddles was the best cat. Let me tell you about this cat.

First of all the bad part. He'd spray... even when we fixed him (after the Pebbles litter). And so he spent most of his life outside, on the porch or prowling the woods. In his youth Cuddles would disappear for months, often in winter, living on rabbits and other rodents. Sometimes I'd see him on the road a few miles away. If I drove him home, he'd wander off again, to return every so often dragging a squirrel between his splayed front legs for his sister and daughter to munch on. Midnight and Pebbles are lazy creatures, rarely wandering off the porch, living on cat food, stalking chickadees for sport. But Cuddles was an independent cat. And when he did happen to be home on the porch at feeding time, he'd always sit back and let his family eat their fill before feeding himself. Cuddles was a good provider. Even as he grew older and lived mostly on the porch, he always cared for his sister and daughter. He'd drape his warm body over them on cold nights, lick away their aches and pains, and make sure they ate their fill before he fed.

I remember one Spring we bought a flock of chickens and let them loose in the yard. That afternoon I looked out the kitchen window to see Cuddles stalking one. I yelled at him, "Cuddles! Those are our Chickens!" He stopped dead in his tracks, looked up at me, turned and walked away. He never went after another one of our animals, even the tiny chicks that hatched the following Fall.

Later on, this one-trial-learning experience kinda backfired on us. You see, we have a couple of boa constrictors that live in a big cage in Diana's office. I feed them rats that I buy from the pet shop. Sometimes the snakes aren't hungry and refuse the rat. Then I'm stuck with a rat, and the problem is, any creature that spends more than 45 minutes in our house becomes a pet. I've had to deal with "pet" rats before. So... I decided to collect the rats during school hours when the kids wouldn't get attached to them, and if the snakes didn't want one I'd chuck it over the balcony into the bushes. After all, we had three cats and although two of them, Midnight and Pebbles, were so lazy they couldn't catch their tails if they were frozen to their butts, Cuddles lived on rabbits and squirrels all winter. Let him have a treat. So that's what I did until one day I tossed a rat over the balcony and watched it land right beside Cuddles. He let that rat scurry under its nose, looked up at the balcony as if to say, "It came from your house. It's yours. I won't touch it." And he sauntered nonchalantly into the woods.

Shortly after that I discovered we had a humongous rat colony breeding in the woodpile, but that's another story.

But what makes Cuddles "the best" cat is not his self-sufficiency, but how effortlessly he combined that with friendliness. He loved to be cuddled, scratched, petted and talked to. At the slightest invitation he'd climb up on your lap for petting. And... if you petted him the wrong way or in the wrong place, he'd bite you. Not viciously with claws or spits, but just a simple clomp down on your hand with his teeth to say, "No. Not there." Cuddles was a bundle of love and independence, two qualities that rarely come together in humans.

Cuddles lived out on the porch except when Jenny came to visit. Jenny loves to be clawed. She resonated to that exquisite mixture of sensuality and pain that only Cuddles could administer. She'd bundle him into her bed and sleep naked with his purring and nuzzling, claws digging lovingly into her chest, wet nose at her chin... Damn how I envied Cuddles those nights.

The funniest incident I remember is when we got the goat. It jumped out of the van and immediately charged every animal in the yard, head down and horns menacing. Each one jumped out of the way... Rhea, our little terrier -- Jesse, the lab -- all the chickens and guinea hens of course B Midnight and Pebbles the silly cats -- even Rowan, our big Pyrenees protector dog. But Cuddles? Of course not. Cuddles never ran from anything. I never saw that cat jump in fear... ever. Cuddles stood his ground and stared that goat down as it charged full tilt, stopped two inches short, dead in its tracks... and fell in love.

For two weeks the goat shadowed Cuddles. It was the funniest thing you ever saw, this big, white, horned, bearded, bouncy creature doing everything it could to imitate a cat. Obviously the goat thought it was a cat, or thought, to survive it had to convince us it was a cat. Cuddles took it with equanimity, never seemed to notice the gigantic creature ever on its tail. After two weeks the goat realized that Rowan was in fact the protector of the yard, and switched his allegiance. But for that time it was a riot, watching this goat stick like glue to the tail of Cuddles the cat.

Oh God Cuddles. I don't want you to be gone. I never had a chance to say goodbye.

A jogger found Cuddles at the side of our driveway, gasping for breath. I called to Di and she put on her clothes. I bundled him into a basket and she drove him to the Vet. Late that afternoon he was dead. Oh God, Cuddles. At the very least I wanted to say goodbye to you.

And I look out on the porch and your sister and daughter know nothing. When will they know? Will they ever know? Cuddles you were the best cat.