Longtime readers of this blog will recall occasional appearances by Disraeli and his sister Victoria, who turned fifteen last week. Unfortunately, Dizzy's health rapidly deteriorated over the past two weeks because of what turned out to be a fast-acting cancer, and his condition was such this morning that I decided it was time.
I used to joke that of the two cats, Dizzy was not the one with an appropriate name: despite being bigger than some small dogs--he topped out at sixteen pounds without being overweight--he was shy around strangers and was not, by any means, a statesman. He was chatty, but had a rather startling habit of demanding attention not by yowling for it, but by staring at me for minutes on end until I noticed him. Although not a big lap cat, he was very insistent about lying next to me whenever lying next to me was to be done, and was quite particular about hanging out on my pillow. In general, he was one of those cats who likes to supervise. Which, I suppose, suggests that I may have named him appropriately after all.