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| Clive, age 5 weeks and 2 days (the day I brought him home) |
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| Kittens on the jungle gym! (a chair with the cushions removed) |
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| Betsy and Clive, who always acted like her little kitten and would snuggle up to her |
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| Clive got a toy in a care package from the States and went wild over it! |
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| Clive and some twine that fascinated him for many weeks |
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| Clive and Betsy - he always managed to make her into a pillow and take up the entire cushion |
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| The cutest lazy bum in all of Tanzania and his obliging sister |
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| Clive, looking rather cocky on top of the closet on the day I moved into a new house and he was checking out his new digs |
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| Little cats checking out the big outdoors |
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| Clive and his prize, which he brought inside shortly after this picture was taken and put on my bed... |
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| Clive in a tree, looking very handsome |
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| The last good picture I have of Clive. If you look closely, you can see his mouth is a bit open as he sleeps, which is because he was having a hard time breathing his last months. |
October 5, 2011 marks the last day of Clive's little life. He was only 4 and a half, but he had been sick (and getting sicker) since January, and after nine months of struggling, we let him go today. (A vet assisted.)
Clive was a incredibly social, friendly cat, and one of the only cats I've known who didn't mind little kids (too much). He would let toddlers "pet" him and wouldn't run away from kids who came to our house to visit. He loved attention and affection.
His love for people was only exceeded by his love for food. Nothing in our house was safe if Clive was inside! Raw onions left on a plate after eating pasta salad, frozen papaya thawing on the counter before being blended into a smoothie, leftover rice at the bottom of the pot soaking in the sink - you name it, Clive ate it. And loved it. He was cheerful about eating his own food (dried fish), too, but he had quite the palate for human food! Any sort of meat was his absolute favorite, followed by bread. For his final meal, I gave him a piece of bread. He took a while to get it down because he struggled to breathe while eating and had a sneezing attack in the middle of it, but he ate the entire piece.
Clive also quite enjoyed his rights as an American - freedom of speech. If he had an opinion, he liked to share it. If he needed something, he had no qualms about telling us. If he wanted in, wanted out, wanted more food, wanted our food, wanted to join the conversation, wanted us to pet him, he just went right ahead and let us know. It was terribly annoying, but it was also handy at times to have a cat who tried to communicate with us.
Clive and his twin sister, Betsy, were the best of buddies. He was a total pest who took her food, laid down on top of her if she was in a spot he wanted, and connived her into giving him a nose-to-toes bath quite regularly. She fell for it all and adored him as her big brother. They usually slept curled up together and it could be hard to tell whose paws and tail were whose as they got tangled up in sleep. I loved it when they'd curl up together on my lap, although such times usually ended with Clive slowly edging Betsy off the lap and she'd finish her nap next to us on the couch while he got the entire spot.
Clive was a good-natured cat who came when called, would let himself be transfered from one sleeping position to another without getting indignant and stomping away like most cats do, caught mice and geckos to keep our house free from critters (although his sister Betsy's ability exceeded his), and lived for the evenings when we watched movies and he got to sleep on my or Andrew's lap for hours. His favorite spot in the world was on his mama's lap (mine). As we drove him to go meet the vet this afternoon, he got a final 30 minutes snuggled up on my lap, leaning his head against me.
Good-bye, Clivey-boo. We love you. We'll miss you.
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