The black cat that has hung around the Daytona Beach News-Journal’s building for the last 16 years died last Friday. As our company is in the final steps of being sold, I’m trying really, really hard not to see that as being in any way ironic.
The cat, known as Miss Kitty (and sometimes Mr. Kitty, gender being somewhat indeterminate, an odd omission for usually detail-oriented reporters), could often be seen wandering the parking lot, prowling around the security booth and generally owning the place. Footprints on cars was not uncommon.
One day I left work to find him (her?) sitting regally on my roof. I explained my need to leave and the probable effects of wind shear on cats (yes, I talk to cats out loud. Don’t you?) and after a moment of consideration he rose, padded gracefully down my windshield, stared me in the eye while he peed on my hood, and leaped away. I’ve rarely received such a direct message before.
Anyway. We had a small memorial service today consisting of some of us standing around talking about the cat. One coworker noted that there were quite a few human employees who wouldn’t receive such a sendoff.
He — or possibly she — will be missed.
For what it’s worth, I went out and peed on your car after reading this elegy. I hope it helps.