In 1973 Skeek wandered into my life off the street when he was just a kitten. I took him home fully expecting my parents to say no we already have two cats and a dog we don't need another cat. But Skeek was playful and winsome and he won my father's and mother's hearts with his ways and he was allowed to stay. Oh boy, a cat of my own!
But Skeek had plans of his own bonding instead with my dad although occasionally he would come visit with me in my room. His favorite game was to wait until my feet moved under the covers and pounce biting very hard. He wasn't especially welcomed by the resident cats but they worked out a compromise and he was tolerated. The dog did not like him but if a neighbors dog bothered him she would leap to the defense. The dog may not have liked her new pack member but no one messed with her pack.
In that time frame it was usual for pets to be allowed to roam free and all of ours took advantage of this coming and going as they pleased. It was this permission that led to me losing Skeek. It was two or three years after he joined our family and we had finished dinner and were sitting down to watch television when there was a knock on the door.
A young man stood there when I opened the door and said, "I'm terribly sorry, but I think I've run over your cat." We all gathered where in his last efforts he had run back home into his yard. The young man apologized over and over and my father said it wasn't his fault the cat had run in front of his car.
We buried Skeek under one of the tall trees in the yard that he liked to lay under. Rest in peace little buddy.
