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RIP Saskia the Cat (2018) |
Above Our cat
Saskia just died. It's a quiet Sunday morning here, and she died peacefully at home about an hour ago. She lived with us (tolerated us really) for eighteen years, which is a pretty long time for a creature who began life as a forlorn feral farm kitten.
She never allowed us to tame her, although she surely loved her mom. She loved to be held and squeezed by her mom—whom she also liked to bite, without warning. She craved belly rubs as intensely as she despised having her nails clipped. An episode of nail clipping, the mere mention of the word "clippers," or leaving her home alone for a day, were unpardonable causes for not speaking to (or even looking at) her mom for hours afterwards. Her father didn't exist (unless she was hungry for tuna).
Saskia was a perfectly beautiful tiger, a walking
haute couture "poster child" for the stipey optical elegance of animal camouflage. She was named after
Saskia van Uylenburgh, the model and eventual wife of Rembrandt. Our Saskia spent a lot of time in Mom's studio.
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William Blake—
Tyger, tyger, burning bright / In the forests of the night / What immortal hand or eye / Could frame they fearful symmetry?