Savannah

I’m really very sorry to tell you that Savannah, one of our four kittens, died yesterday. He had survived two bouts of cancer but then his lungs grew old and weak and it became difficult for him to breathe. It was also difficult for him to eat and he grew terribly thin. Finally he stopped eating altogether, and yesterday morning my dad took Savannah to see our vet, Patrice, who’s a very humane man. Patrice said it was time to let Savannah go, and he gave him a little injection while my dad held him until he went to sleep.

My mum and dad are very, very sad. Their pet names for Savannah were ‘Prince’ and ‘First Born’—because he was the first of the three grey kittens to move into their house. That was fifteen years ago, when they found this really tiny kitten hiding in the engine of their car. When they brought him into the house he was very wild, spitting and scratching, but when he heard the music that was playing—Bach, apparently—he immediately settled down and began washing himself, and that was the beginning of the love affair with my mum and dad that lasted for more than one hundred cat years.


Savannah was also known as ‘The Mighty Hunter’ because unlike the other greys—Milo and Georgia—he would sometimes demand to leave the house and go off to fend for himself, sometimes for days at a time. And once he returned with a whole chicken, as big as he was, that he carried into the courtyard and proceeded to eat! (Don’t worry; it was already dead.)

By the time I arrived on the scene, Savannah’s Mighty Hunter days were over. He would still demand to be let out—and, boy, could that kitten howl!—but he only pretended to go hunting. Actually, my dad tells me, he would hide in our neighbour’s garden, and he would always come home when it was time for dinner.

So, now only one of three greys is left: Georgia, who, I’m pleased to say, seems very healthy, even though she’s also fifteen. And we still have Rabbit and, of course, the dreaded Sooty—so we’re not exactly short of kittens.

Still, the house seems a little bit empty today, because something very precious is missing.