The full text of Kinky's eulogy to his cat Cuddles. I could never find
better words.
E P I L O G U E
On January 4, 1993, the cat in this book and the books that preceded
it was put to sleep in Kerrville, Texas, by Dr. W.H. Hoegemeyer and
myself. Cuddles was fourteen years old, a respectable age. She was as
close to me as any human being I have ever known.
Cuddles and I spent many years together, both in New York, where I
first found her as a little kitten on the street in Chinatown, and
later on the ranch in Texas. She was always with me, on the table, on
the bed, by the fireplace, beside the typewriter, on top of my
suitcase when I returned from a trip.
I dug Cuddles' grave with a silver spade, in the little garden by the
stream behind the old green trailer where both of us lived in the
summertime. Her burial shroud was my old New York sweatshirt and in
the grave with her is a can of tuna and a cigar
A few days ago I received a sympathy note from Bill Hoegemeyer, the
veterinarian. It opened with a verse by Irving Townsend: "We who
choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our
own live within a fragile circle ......
Now, as I write this, on a gray winter day by the fireside, I can
almost feel her light tread, moving from my head and my heart down
through my fingertips to the keys of the typewriter People may
surprise you with unexpected kindness. Dogs have a depth of loyalty
that often we seem unworthy of. But the love of a cat is a blessing, a
privilege in this world.
They say when you die and go to heaven all the dogs and cats you've
ever had in your life come running to meet you.
Until that day, rest in peace, Cuddles.