11 July, 1999 to 17 April, 2015
Alias Emperor Pu An Yu, alias Pu, alias Ol’ Pu, he was half Siamese and half Godknows. His mother belonged to my then landlord’s daughter-in-law. I chose him, the only white one in the litter (the other four were black). I had him since he was 6 weeks old. He was the grand old man of the troupe. Vocal, opinionated and obstreperous, but with a softer, snuggly side (it was in there somewhere. . . ). He was my wingman. He slept at my side. He decided if he would be friends, and it was on his terms, or not at all. He knew all the verses of “The Mighty Hunter Song,” and favored us with a rendition when the spirit moved him.
He was the only one left who remembered Shadow, the first one I lost, who remembered living in the apartment on 21st street, which is gone now, replaced by a Market Street supermarket. But Time does not stand still. My world is inevitably changing. I lost my dad in September of 2014. I need to spend time with my 90-year-old mom, and take her to places she wants to go, to revisit the people and places she loves. The old man was 15, going on 16. He’d had a good long life, but his hearing was going, and this past week, I saw the beginning of the inexorable slide. It was kinder to let him go, to join Jett and Shadow, the two that have already gone on ahead. He crossed the Rainbow Bridge at 10:05 a.m.