Eric the cat, son of Nuri - born on Valentine's day 2008 - died last Sunday July 31 at sunset. He lived free on Wilston Hill (but not long enough),didn't see the car while playing in front of us in high spirits. Animal pal of Tara and now ronE, loved, cared for and will be missed by (at least) three families. Another heartbreak!

Early Feb 2008 and I was in the middle of throat cancer treatments. I had had my neck dissection to remove the secondary cancer, 16 teeth removed in three operations to make way for multiple sessions of radiation to blast the primary in my larynx. My diary on Tuesday 12 Feb notes radiation session 20 and that evening, while lying upstairs I heard activity in the kitchen, a thump to the floor and I just spied a brindle patterned cat slink away to the verandah. Well, as soon as I told Barb she put out milk for the cat which came back for food the following day, seemingly un-flustered by the presence of Tara, the following day she gave birth to two kittens on the kitchen floor. To Barb’s amazement she ate the first still-born kitten and Barb watched as she cleaned up the second  and live little ginger bundle. We called the mother ‘Sorry’ as she was a feral cat of our Wilston Hill, it was around the time when Kevin made his sorry apology for the Nation. Those close to the unfolding story know of many more features of Eric’s life. The Christmas break that year meant that we had to leave mother and son with friends on the hill as we made our trip to Tasmania. On our return, mother was to remain in the big Georgian house on the hill, by now re-named Nuri and (little fucking) Eric was passed back to us with a kill tally sheet from his minder. Eric was a sort of positive messenger during my ordeal, he matured to become a real character known by everyone exercising on the walkway beside the studio. He stayed close by during the two subsequent trips to Tasmania and became firm friends with our neighbour next door. Liked by Vet and all our other pets, another heartbreak.