La Contessa di Duci -- La chatte du chateau -- a farewell.

Saturday, December 19

Always camera shy, La Contessa di Duci did not often allow her pictures to be taken. Over the twelve years of her beautiful life, there were off occasions when we would capture a moment, but even then, it was hard -- she had such an exquisite black coat and unless she looked straight at the camera and showed her big expressive,yellowish green eyes, or had her lovely snow white bib, her white whiskers or one white eyebrow, or her little white paws exposed, it was hard to discern what was what.

Duci moved with me to France -- a long, long car trip that she spent on my lap sleeping, once in a while sitting up and looking out the window, then at me -- as if to ask "are we almost there?" From the moment she arrived at Chateau Lalinde, she was home. She loved exploring all the rooms, finding where the sun poured in, a golden pool of light where she would curl up and go to sleep -- until the sun moved and she would get up, stretch out, and move off to the next room, the next pool of light. From time to time she was terrorized by the alley cats of the village, but this did not deter her from stalking the fat lizards lazing in the sun on the terrace, or from a high vantage point on the window sill, gazing longingly at the swallows swooping past.
She listened quietly to my rants and raves, to my whoops of joy and my sobs of sorrow, she chirped like a little bird when she wanted to tell me a story and mewed sweetly when she needed me to come downstairs to feed her. She was there when I returned home and walked through the front door, coming down the stairs to greet me, stroke my legs and purr a gentle welcome. She softly prodded my face in the morning to tell me it is time to wake up and she nudged my hand to say good night before going off to curl into a ball at the foot of my bed.
I shall miss you, my little cat. Thank you -- and fare thee well...