A Farewell to Fancy
Fancy in her natural state, lazing on the couch.
Fancy the Cat Ham died peacefully Dec. 19, 2014 at the good cat age of 12 and a half years. She was about as goofy and gregarious as a cat could get while remaining independent and low-maintenance in that wonderful cat way. She went mostly by Cat, since we Southerners like to confuse people by using our middle names. We made a good pair and I will miss her.
At the tender age of newborn, she knew adventure. She was saved from certain penury and near-certain, swift death after being abandoned somewhere in the countryside of Richmond County, North Carolina. Andy, Alan, and Crystal took her in and then gave her to me because she was, well, a rowdy, annoying kitten.
She was my first pet as a grown-up, though I use the term loosely as I was a month out of college writing obituaries and covering Hoffman town meetings (pop. 588). She enjoyed the somewhat itinerant life of an outdoor, country cat for a couple years, hunting and galavanting in the wooded areas near my house. But when I went to the front door and called for her, she’d always burst from the woods and sprint back home.
She was a superlative spooner.
She later made a seamless transition to sedentary, indoor city cat life. She still almost always came when I called her, though I’m probably lucky she only had to traverse a condo to do so. She would often meet me at the door when I came home. She loved to lounge on Jake’s chest, oblivious to the toll her claws took (or was she?), and she even let Georgia pet her about once a month.
She mighta been born just plain white trash, but Fancy was-a her name. And, she didn't let me down. Not once.
In lieu of flowers, the family requests you crank this: