No one every met Julian who did not remark, “That is the biggest cat I’ve ever seen!” And he was definitely a big, big boy – 25 pounds of orange and white goofball. He slipped away across the Rainbow Bridge yesterday at the age of 13. When he didn’t appear in the kitchen at dinner time, my husband went looking and discovered him dead on the living room floor.
Julian (named Squire Julian Gingivere by my son, who was reading the Red Wall books at the time) adopted us in 2004, showing up in the backyard as a stray. He finally convinced us to let him inside and after a vet check, he joined our household. He loved his people and always wanted to be wherever they were.
He never forgot his life on the mean streets and could not be trusted with a garbage or grocery bag. He definitely did not want to go back, however. He pushed through a hole in the screened porch one summer evening and went missing. However, when the thunder started to rumble later that night, he was back at the door, meowing to get back in.
We adopted another cat when Julian had been with us a few years, and he and Mosby became fast friends, indulging in regular sessions of what my son dubbed Graeco-Roman Bobcat Wrestling and curling up together whenever possible. Mosby is killing me, wandering the house calling for his bro.
I feel so sad for my son. This is his first major pet loss. Julian came to us the summer my son turned 8, and he is now a senior in college. Julian has been around for more than half his life.
You were a good kitty, Julian. You have left a very big cat-shaped hole in our hearts.
I had a similar cat, Figaro (named after the Barber of Seville). He was also orange and white and weighed 27 pounds. The vet told me to get him some exercise, so I bought a leash and harness (dog size) and took him out to the sidewalk. His legs didn’t move as I dragged him down the sidewalk, but his claws left long marks on the cement. Passers-by laughed.
