Sophia de Pistachio (2006–2026)
Francine and I bought Pistachio House in the Autumn of 2006. We moved in with a tribe of kids and cats. Sometime before that first Christmas, we rescued two kittens who had been born under the porch next door in the Autumn and abandoned by their mother.
These were Sophie and Linus, who by our reckoning were the first of our family who had known no home before Pistachio House.
Sophie was fierce from the beginning. When we rescued them, she was standing protectively over her brother, hissing at us. A year or so later, Linus wandered off, probably to a new home with fewer cats. But Sophie stayed.
She was immediately taken under wing by the late great Abiu, the old Colonel. He taught her to hunt, and together many evenings they would beat the bounds, walking the entire inside perimeter of our property before heading back inside.
When Abiu passed, Sophie very much took over as the guardian of Pistachio House.
She was a fierce hunter. I once saw her go from sitting on the porch to taking a bird out of the air in the blink of an eye.
She probably would have hated this photo of her looking so goofy, but it’s one of my favourites.
She was always Francine’s cat. Francine was mama, and I was clearly the hired help. I think that changed a little in the last year or so, but she never stopped trying to order me around or loudly express her displeasure with me. That’s fine. I loved her just the same.
A few years ago, I think she decided to retire. Her time outside was mostly spent in the sun. By this time, she was in her late teens. She still did manage to bring Francine a decapitated mouse for her birthday the year before last, though. I think that’s probably the last time she hunted.
She survived all the cats we had together. But 19 years is a good, long life for a cat.
About a year and a half ago, the vet told us that her kidneys were failing1. It wasn’t painful, and there was very little that we could do other than give her medicated food. He gave her eight months to live. She basically doubled that estimate.
Still, it was pretty clear that her health was in decline. She slept more and more, and she only went outside for a few minutes a day.
Yesterday, Sophie woke up from her nap, walked downstairs, and sort of collapsed at the bottom of the stairs.
She was very weak, and she staggered when she tried to walk. Figuring the end was near, I basically cuddled her all evening.
I carried her outside into the yard before it got dark to visit all her favorite sunning spots. She occasionally weakly meowed, but she just seemed to want to slip into sleep.
She spent last night in the bed with me, though at some point she somehow managed to slink off to one of her many cat beds.
Today, I laid her in front of the (fake) fireplace in my office so that she would stay warm and comfortable. It was a spot that she always enjoyed. I don’t know how many photos of her I have sleeping in front of it over the years.
About 40 minutes after I took that one last photo of her, Sophie passed from this world at about 4:15 this afternoon.
I’m absolutely heartbroken. She was such a good cat.
