R.I. P. Pionjar

18 years ago we moved into a little rented house in Glenorchy, known locally as the brown house. It came with a resident cat. We guessed her age to be about two years old, as she had already had a litter of kittens. She belonged to the previous people who had rented the house, but all efforts to move her to their new house failed until finally we said if they would get her spayed then we would look after her. Her name was Socks but it didn’t really suit her and we took to calling her Pionjar (Pun-Yah, or pun- yah- be) after the brand name of a rock drill the Doc workers were using at the time.

She quickly taught our dogs how to respect a cat. She lived on dog roll and various bits of wild meat such as venison and goat and possum. Whatever was available. She excelled at catching mice, and rats, and even rabbits. Also birds it must be admitted, but she preferred the field mice.

One year (plague year) she lined up a rat at the back door several nights in a row. At least they were dead I guess, unlike the baby rabbits which was how we came to have pet rabbits for several years.

When we moved on to another house, I really didn’t think she would move with us, however she made it clear she was quite happy to move with us, and again when we moved back into town. She didn’t like to be picked up but would happily sit on the laps of her people if she chose to do so. She insisted it was her right to have the best spot in front of the fire or heater.

Two years ago she went blind and we thought her time was up. but the vet was busy and by the time she could come to put her down, Pionjar had adjusted to being blind and it seemed a bit premature, so we left it.  This last year she has been going down hill, drinking a lot and eating constantly although she stayed as small and slim as ever. Any day we expected to find she had died in her sleep, but at last she stopped eating and became terribly skinny and we knew the time had come to say goodbye.

It is never easy to say goodbye to a precious pet especially one who choose us to be her people and has been part of our lives for 18 years. But as is often pointed out to us 20 years old is a good age for a cat. She is at rest now in a sunny spot in the garden. I’ll find a rose to mark the place. Rest in peace Pionjar.