The Bogie Man
Today is the anniversary of the death of my much-loved cat Bogart (or Bogie Man as I called him) an enormous black cat that adored me as much as I adored him.
Bogie came into my life when I was 18 and shared a flat with my sister in Glasgow. Along with his sister (a wee black kitten name Garbo, on account of the fact that she wasn’t much into the affection malarky and looked at you with eyes that said, “I want to be alone”) they were the first pets that were truly ours – not just family pets.
The Bogie Man had some strange characteristics, one of them was that he was a wonderful thief. He had a penchant for jewellery and if ever you lost an earring or a necklace you would always find it tucked into the folds in his bed.
One night however his thieving ways almost killed him. In the dark of night he managed to get into the kitchen cupboard and found a half full can of cat food. Unable to resist he munched his way through the contents only to find that his head was stuck. I awoke to bashing and crashing in the hallway outside my bedroom door and rushed to investigate. My sleepy eyes had trouble making out the sight. There was the Bogie Man with a can of cat food rammed hard on his head crashing and bouncing off the walls.
Panic ensued as it became clear that the can was wedged hard and, with the vacuum that had been created, he couldn’t breathe. Grabbing the now frantically flailing around cat, with all his claws fully extended, he ripped me to bits as I eventually pulled off the can with a loud gloopy pop. He breathed heavily and shook his head as he regained full consciousness on the floor beside his shaking and bloody owner.
I would love to say that he never stole again, but he did. From that day however he loved me unconditionally with a passion that was quite staggering.
The Bogie Man lived to the ripe old age of 18 ending his life with Feline AIDS (which the vet suggested he would hush up as I was by then working with an organisation supporting people with HIV – clearly the educational info on HIV transmission was lost on said vet).
Sadly todays blog has no photographs of my Bogie Man. These were casualties of my divorce (don’t ask!). I remember him fondly though and although I now live with two beautiful and crazy cats who have bags of charisma and I love dearly my Bogie Man will always have a wee special place in my heart.
So of all the gin joints in all the towns I’m glad that he walked into mine. Here’s looking at you, kid! I wish I still could.
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7.49 pm – Just thought I would add this…..I realised when I got home tonight that I may not have photographs of The Bogie Man but I do have a small pastel done by my ex-husband of me and my Bogie Man. Thought I would share it.
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What an experience that must have been! Startling, funny, frightening, and painful all at once. I’m guessing you didn’t soon fall back asleep after that adrenaline rush. Sad you don’t have pictures, but happy you have great memories of Bogie Man.
You’re right Phil I sat on the hall floor sobbing as a result of the chaos and panic. Then I cleaned up the Bogie Man and took him to bed. He lay with his head on the pillow and dropped off to sleep like nothing had happened whilst I lay awake half the night! It seems we can learn much from our animals in this case ‘deal with the crisis and move on’.
Oh bless him@!! What a character – and the bit about the vet made me chuckle.
We lost a guinea pig on Sunday – I think he had a stroke and then he passed quietly away. I am missing him – it’s only been sic weeks since the other one went. They were such quirky little chaps … I never thought when we got them that they would make much impact but they became real characters. The dog is still going strong though – I can’t bear to think of losing him! EEK!
He certainly was. I loved him dearly. Sorry about your guinea pig – Spencer had two and they were great pets. I too was surprised how fond I was of them. I loved the noise they made when they heard you come into the room – a cross between a whistle and a squeak.
Thanks for sharing Bogie with us. A bittersweet story well-told.
Thank you, I’m pleased you enjoyed it. It was nice to write and remember.
Your story made me smile, and the picture is priceless. That pastel is a good memento of Bogie Man I guess…
And he sounds like a fabulous cat. xx
The hardest part of having such a dear and quirky character for a pet/friend is that they leave you all too soon. But I think they stay with us in our heart. That hurt we feel when they leave is our hearts making room for them. No picture can replace that. Thanks for sharing your Bogie Man with us.
I like the idea that ‘the hurt we feel when they leave is our hearts making room for them” – what a lovely way to think about it.