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Early one morning in May 1980 a very young cat jumped out of the bushes in front of my bicycle. It hit the wheel. Ofcourse I stopped to see if it was hurt and although the cat screamed loud enough to wake up the entire city of Haarlem, I found nothing wrong with him. I told him I lived close by and if he wanted to come with me, he should follow the bike. He did. When I opened my front door the cat hid behind the rear tire of a parked car and watched me with rapt. Immediately behind the front door was my staircase. The cat ran up to the first floor while I still had my keys in the lock of the front door. And out of six doors on the corridor he chose mine. He sat down and waited for me to open the door. Once inside he immediately cuddled up beside me on my wide black skirt. He was about three months old and well-groomed, but obviously did not want to return to where he came from. He had his mind made up and I was over-joyed. |
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He was so playful and fast, that following a ball of wool made him fly rather than run, and in the process he sometimes flew up against furniture, doors, plants. So I named him "bad-luck-pilote". Bad-luck was soon turned into good-luck and Pilote stayed with me until he was seventeen and a half years of age. He had been very ill for over two years by the time Martin and I found each other. Soon after Holy Smoke came into our lives, so Pilote and Holy Smoke knew each other for about two months and shared roast beef. Sadly, in August 1997, the time came that Pilote told us he was tired and needed to go - eventhough he didn't want to. Now, four years later, hardly a day goes by without thinking of him. How he loved grass, not just to eat it, but also to sleep in. The very last time he fell asleep was on my lap, and although Holy Smoke was very young at the time, I like to think he even remembers Pilote.
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Last Updated : Juni 2010