Biscotti: 9/1/87 - 5/14/97

Biscotti was one of the best cats I ever had. He never ran away, never got himself dead by eating poisoned mice, running in front of cars, or other usual cat acts of checking out early and breaking my heart. He was a cat of much class and distinction-a John Paul Sartre kinda of cat, whose philosophy of life was eating, sleeping, and keeping track of me cause I was his big love and provider of food. He did not have huge expectations, and graciously went with the changes of life with little disturbances to his kitty psyche.

He would always be at the curb no matter what hour of day and night waiting with a plaintive nagging wail, wondering just where have you been, I've been worried! (I swear he could hear my car coming 2 blocks away.) I knew to never come home to a house empty of canned cat food, and have made many a late night jaunt to 24 hr convenience store with my last dollar to abate the "WHAT NO CANNED CAT FOOD!" wrath of this kitty tyrant.

What impressed me about Scoatters was he really loved my art and me doing my art. He was always there when I was in the depths of art making, and would often show his appreciation by either getting the art on himself or shedding all over the art I made, it was a symbiotic relationship. When he was tiny I came home to my studio/apartment covered with little tiny hansa yellow paw prints over the entire place! (He had walked on my oil paint palette.) Often he would appear with bright magenta pastel or spots of green paint on his fur and I knew he had been admiring my latest creations. Even now I'll find a drawing covered with a fine film of cat hair where he had chosen to have an artful kitty snooze. I'll miss that hair! It has been immortalized on some of my boxed quilt works forever. Maybe someday we two will be in a museum permanently immortalized.

I know the last 6 years of his life had been the best for us both. I settled down with a sweet man who gave us both a good home even though it did contain a dog. Tolerating Prince was the one thing he always struggled with. Again it was his love of me and Eric who was one blessed man, that restrained him. (His last act on earth was taking a swipe at Prince just for a final defiant gesture.) He was a little unhappy with the rabbit especially when I fussed over it, but even then claimed his place on my lap every evening and knew that he could never be replaced.

It goes without saying he is missed sorely. We buried him in his favorite spot in the backyard under the birdfeeder, a spot worn down by constant vigilant napping. He was buried with rosepetals, herbs, and a drawing of mine for his kitty afterlife where he will probably be an art critic for the S.F. Chronicle......The tears still well up, we must go on - bye to you my wonderful cookie boy......