The Grey Elf

"They are called the Sindar, the Grey-elves of Beleriand...they became the fairest and the most wise and skilful of all the Elves of Middle-earth."  J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion.

For our first anniversary, Mr. Einstein and I celebrated at his parents' lake cabin.  Our family and friends joined us for the weekend, and we boated and played and talked and ate.  After evening fell, the neighbor's great brute of a dog ran by growling and barking in the middle of the night, chasing...something.  The next day, we discovered what.

There were three of them, all grey, all with yellow eyes.  All abandoned.  The kittens were very affectionate, very hungry, and very well-behaved.

My brother-in-law took one, the biggest one, a female.  Mr. Einstein and I took the other two--one boy, one girl--with the intention of dropping them off at an animal shelter.

They never made it to the shelter.

We kept them too long, fell in love with them, and bonded with them.  So, we took them both home.

The girl we called Melody.  She "sang" the entire four hour drive home.

The boy we called Sindar.  He looked like one of Tolkien's grey elves with his pointy ears, sleek grey fur, and big yellow eyes.

We have had both of them ten years now.  Through one move, three kids, and numerous neighborhood building projects, they have been here with us.

Until yesterday morning.

I let Sindar out two nights ago, as per usual.  He's a moose of a cat, but a true fraidy cat.  He loves the outdoors, but will only stay out at night for a few hours, and never during the day.

The next morning, I asked Mr. Einstein if he had let the cat in that night.  Sindar eventually comes scratching at the door, usually around midnight.  But, not that night.

That night, we slept.

And Sindar died.

Somehow.  We don't know how.  We found him in the middle of the road early yesterday morning, cold and stiff.  There were no marks on his body, no blood, but we're assuming a car hit him.

It breaks my heart to know he died alone.  To think he suffered and I didn't know.

And I know he's "just a cat," but he was my cat, our cat.  And now he's gone.

Rest in peace, Sindar.  We miss you.