goodbye to Lenny

Lenny

27 May 1999 - 4 July 2012

Lenny (aka Lenny Penny, aka Penard) came to me by a bit of a circuitous route at a time when I wasn't really looking for a cat.  My life was unsettled and I wasn't even 100% sure I was allowed pets in my flat.  But he was the result of bad breeding, he had some serious health problems, and he desperately needed rescuing from his horrid breeder.  Between my friends and I, we bought him from the breeder and in the autumn of 1999 he moved in with me and took over.

He certainly had an individual look that went with his individual character.  He was cheeky and sweet with a wonderful sense of humour.  His favorite thing in the world was to lie on your person - ideally on your arm or hand, if possible - and chew your fingers. He was also very fond of lying right on your chest purring cat breath into your face.

He was such a tiny and frail looking kitten that I didn't let him outdoors when he was young.  When he did venture out into the world, he never strayed far from home, although he frequently brought home friends for a meal - or to move in.

He loved everyone and everything, although he had a jealous streak.   He had a love-hate with his fellow feline housemate, Gink.  Mostly hate, really.  They tolerated each other, although there were occasional rare moments of brotherhood.  Or, perhaps, just a stubborn refusal to relinquish the prized cushion!







 





When strangers came to the house to visit, Lenny would be right there, climbing onto their laps to make friends.  And if they didn't like cats, well so much the better!  He was pretty sure that he could win them over.












He was even on hand for essential puppy socialisation duties.

 
Like all strong personalities, Lenny could be an unbelievable nuisance when he put his mind to it.  He absolutely had to be involved in whatever you were doing, whether it was convenient or not.


One of his favorite hobbies was finding a nicely echoing hallway or room and yowling at the top of his voice - which was a considerable volume.




He also gave us one or two frights in his life.  The worst was one night when he came in through the cat flap with a suspicious expression and his cheeks puffed out like a squirrell.  He opened his mouth and out hopped a tiny toad!  I spent the rest of that night worried about him and on the phone to the emergency vet to be assured that the frantic frothing at the mouth was merely a reaction to the surface coating on the toad to discourage just such events.  I don't think he ever bothered the garden wildlife again.

If a lap wasn't available, he liked nothing better than to be curled up against the lovely warm, cuddly... radiator.



But sometimes his own bed was an acceptable alternative.

And sometimes somewhere else was better.



















Due to his shaky start in life, he did have some complicated health problems and was on medication of some sort or other all his life.  In his later years he suffered from arthritis and each winter we wondered if it would be his last as he slowed down and hibernated.  Each spring that came round to find Lenny still with us was a blessing.

When the time came to say goodbye to him, we tried to be strong for him.  Typical Lenny - his organs were failing, he was dangerously dehydrated and unable to eat or drink.  He must have been suffering, but he was still alert, purring, making it so hard to do what was necessary.  But there was no way we were going to have his last days spent in the hospital with needles in his skinny little legs trying to keep him going another day, another week.  Instead we gave him a final cuddle and said goodbye.

The house will be a far, far quieter place without Lenny's big personality and even bigger voice.  Our laps will be chilly when we sit around in the evening.

Run free at Rainbow Bridge, Lenny Penny, just don't catch the toads!