In Memoriam
Beaulieu
(when she was about two months old.)
October 24, 1984 - September 16, 1999
(Picture: 1/85)
Beaulieu (pronounced “byou lee”) was named after a town in southern England. I got her when she was seven weeks old, which was about four months after I had started freelancing full time. In two months, she taught me that she fetched wadded up paper, which later became magazine “bingo” cards attached to a length of string (easier to throw, and throw farther).
Beaulieu was a great cat. Smart, personable, curious. She had a great sense of humor, doing those cat activities that would make Joann and me laugh. I suspect Beaulieu was making fun of me when I’d exercise on the floor. She would lie on her back, plant her back feet on the floor to steady herself, and then she’d stretch her front paws way over her head. Like me, but better.
Beaulieu was definitely a shoulder cat. She didn’t like to be held for more than a minute or two. Hold her for longer, she’d climb up onto your shoulders. Joann and I would give her a tour of the house while she was perched there. Even the vet and the vet’s assistants the last six months Beaulieu lived had to learn that. “Don’t worry; she likes shoulders,” Joann and I would say, and yet each new assistant would try to hold this cat now squirmy when she’d see us. But not the second time; they would let her stand on their shoulders or hop up onto mine.
Beaulieu often came when I called her, and not just for food. And her purring sounded like it needed some oiling—there was a little chirp to it—and yet it was a calming, delightful sound to fall asleep to after Beaulieu “tucked” me into bed.
Beaulieu was diagnosed with fibrosarcoma—a cancer—in early March 1999. She was put to sleep in mid-September.
For those 15 years, she was a wonderful, close, kind, and fun friend. I miss her dearly.
I miss Liz-Beth, too. Liz-Beth was a purebred, actually overbred, Blue Persian. A friend gave me Liz-Beth when the cat was about a year old. Liz-Beth lived from August 25, 1981 to April 1, 1995 (she had squamous cell carcinoma when she was put to sleep).
Liz-Beth was the cerebral one in the family. Peaceful and quiet. She had a very, very deep-sounding purr. For years and years, she’d tuck me in at night, lying down on my chest after I settled down, her nose to my nose. Liz-Beth always knew when I was upset or depressed, and she’d come over, hop onto my lap, and knead me for quite a while. I miss her affection.
Here are some pictures of the two cats:
“Computer Cat”
Beaulieu. (2/85)
Liz-Beth and Beaulieu. (2/85)
Beaulieu meets a manual typewriter. (10/85)
Liz-Beth holding down a luggable. (10/85)
Computer Cat Redux
Beaulieu is asleep on the top air vents to two vertically arranged 5¼-inch floppy drives. For her, that was the warmest spot in the apartment. That was fine with me, and her, until I had to change disks. (3/86)
Beaulieu
(Early May 1999)
nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me
as if I were beside you...
I loved you so
’twas Heaven here with you.
—Isla Paschal Richardson
