After almost 21 years of being my faithful companion, my cat Dicebag, the Galactic Overlord of Doom, has died. I can’t even begin to describe how much it hurt to watch him go. He really was the greatest cat of all time.
He was born outside my apartment in one of the worst snow storms in Dallas history back in 1982 and was the only one of the litter to survive. He traveled with me all over the country, putting up with any number of parties, strange boyfriends, odd friends and two husbands. When he liked you, he’d bring you dead things. At a festival in Maryland once, he stalked into a lion cage and laid down, convinced he was one of the big cats. It so confused the lions that they let him stay, even during feeding hours.
He got me out of numerous speeding tickets when I was touring the country, by laying on the dashboard of my sports cars and batting at the police who stopped me. It would so distract the police that they would usually let me go without even a warning. He loved McDonalds french fries…until they stopped using beef tallow to fry them, then he lost interest. Someone once gave me a copy of Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses, which Dicebag proceeded to pull off the coffee table and poop upon. As this was behavior which he’d never exhibited before, or since, he then gained the nickname Defender of Mecca, Protector of Allah. (Thanks for the story reminder
I miss him so much. I can’t stop crying. I want my cat back.