Gilligan

Once again, I am WAY behind on the blog.  Might as well post some old, but still sad news.
On June 14th we had to put down our Gilligan.  Yes, he was 17 or 18 years old.  Yes, he had a huge tumor on his cheek. And, yes, we had been feeding him soft food for a year or more just to keep him fed.  He was getting tougher looking every day, but I wasn't ready for him to be gone.

He was the grief counselor on the farm and things haven't been the same without him.

And, in true Dismal Land and Livestock fashion, we had some post death "appearances" from Gilligan. 

Within 24 hours of his death, he did three things that he always did when he was alive.  Three things that were classic Gilligan.

 The first evening he was gone, I looked out the window from washing dishes and saw an orange cat walking up the hill from the tree at the bottom, just like Gilligan always did when he was in his prime.

 The next morning I looked west to the bottom of the pasture and saw an orange cat chasing and playing with magpies.  Another absolutely classic Gilligan moment. More than once we saw magpies following him around, hot on his tail.

 That night, as Boyd was opening up the windows to cool off the house, he heard a cat meow once.  He stood and listened for more, but that was it - one last meow.  Gilligan would always hang out by the basement windows, walking from one to the other and peeking in. 

 Boyd said he felt like that was Gilligan's good bye, that he was just letting us know he was okay.

 It's still weird not to see him at the back step each night begging to come in and get his "inside" time.

 I am impressed he managed to survive and live to his very old age.

 Farm cats don't often escape the plethora of dangers around them. More than once he showed up bloody and beaten. 

 I am just glad he was with us for as long as he was.