A tribute to Ginger

You were all things to all men. 

Cat lovers hugged you close and smothered you with kisses, while those overcoming a lifelong fear of cats plucked up their courage to stroke you with one finger so, well, gingerly. You were patient and gentle with the mobs of little children who wanted to grab you, as though you knew they meant no harm. You were friendly to complete strangers, secure enough to sit at the feet of my new students whom you didn’t know at all. And to those you knew well, you freely gave comfort and companionship.

The kids loved to hug Ginger, and he allowed them to, even if they were sometimes a bit too rough.

From you, I learnt how to be content. Wherever you lay your head on became the perfect resting place. And boy, did you have lots of napping spots. Stretched out on top of the mats. Curled up in a box. Under a tree. Behind the office printer. Inside the pigeonholes. It didn’t matter where you were. You owned every place you lay down on, with carefree abandon. Cats sometimes hide from human view, but no, you were always so secure and confident.

From you, I learnt to lay down my burdens, even if temporarily. It became a habit to look for you when I felt down, or weary. Often, you would be sleeping in perfect contentment. Over and over again, I would rest my head on your warm and furry body, feeling the gentle purring that would start almost instantly. Sometimes, I buried my whole face in your curled-up body. And for a few brief moments, I would set aside the worries of life and simply rest in your feline presence. Cats don’t always like to be touched, but no, you freely gave of yourself to me.

From you, I learnt to go with the flow. I still marvel at how you have adapted to the rhythm of life in Cocoon. You were equally at ease in a big crowd of strangers, among noisy and enthusiastic children or alone with me. When we tore down the tool shed to make way for new toilets, you lost a hiding place, but you gave it up graciously, and simply found somewhere else to sleep in. 

You walked up and down the construction site, climbed up the piles of dirt and skirted the gaping holes like a pro. Unknown to me, you left your paw prints on the damp concrete slab of the septic tank, which have now become a precious reminder of your presence. Cats usually don’t like change, but no, you sauntered into each new season with so much confidence. 

 

It was my first time managing a building project but thankfully, Ginger was a great help as the ameowing site supurrvisor. 

Every corner of Cocoon holds memories of him.

I’ve often referred to you as the perfect cat for us, an angel in a feline body. My heart is broken now that you are dead, but there is no other way around this pain, because hearts that don’t break aren’t any good.