She was our household's incarnation of Bast -- regal, with golden eyes and
the dense black fur of a panther -- the epitome of a Bombay cat. We got
her on the same shelter trip as Curio. Her name
in the shelter was Desdemona, but we shortened that to Desdi, which
quickly became Desti. We decided after that that Desti was short for
Destra.
She was gentle, cuddly, playful (at least in her younger years), outgoing,
and affectionate. She would sit in anyone's lap, and lick any hand that
she found in front of her. She had a very quiet purr, and an expressive
meow. Like most cats, she liked to be in boxes; unlike most she had a
habit of nibbling on the edges. I don't think she ever ate any
of the cardboard she bit off; she just dropped it over the edge.
When we lived in Seattle at Rainbow's End, she would jump up to the
railing at the top of the stairs, totally unfazed by the 12-foot drop to
the floor below. Scared me, but that didn't faze her either.
She loved high places.
Bombay cats bond with a family. She was mostly N's cat at first, but
after Curio died she came to my bed and slept in the exact same place
where my Pretty Boy used to sleep. She stayed with G when he had a
separate apartment, then lived with me and Colleen and Ticia on Whidbey
Island. After Colleen died, she and Ticia moved with me to Seattle, where
they often slept with me on opposite sides of the bed. During the day she
would often be found lying on the back of Colleen's recliner, or sharing
Colleen's lap with Ticia.
We all thought of her as mostly G's cat, though, because of the
enthusiastic way she'd greet him, standing on her hind legs and putting
her front paws on his chest. But in the end, weak from kidney failure,
dehydration, and cancer, when all of her people but m were nine time-zones
away on a video call, it was my voice she recognized, pricking her ears at
the phone while I said good bye. I told her that she was my darling
little girl and that everything was going to be all right, and that
Colleen and Curio were waiting for her, and that she'd be meeting Ame and
Bast. But G pointed out that she'd seen Bast before -- she's on her fifth
life now (according to Cricket).
Racing up the Rainbow Bridge, no longer old and fat and tired, she leaps
up onto the railing as she used to do in the house we called Rainbow's
End. She was always a bit of a show-off, and loves high places.
Halfway up the bridge she is met by a grey tabby and a sleek black cat
wearing a beaded collar of gold and lapis lazuli. Curio, the tabby,
leads the small clowder to where Colleen sits watching the vikings
fighting on the field in front of Valhalla. Bast briefly re-manifests
as a woman with the head of a cat, to ask whether she should go fetch
Amethyst. Colleen replies that Ame will find them later -- she prefers
twilight. Curio and Desti settle comfortably into her lap.
Bast waves cheerfully, reverts to feline form, and bounds off in the
general direction of the catnip patch where Freya's chariot-cats hang
out.
I brought her ashes home this afternoon.
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