Valentine “Binky” Clark
?/2002 – 12/12/2017
I am sad to say that my sweet kitty Valentine passed away today. She was with me for over 12 years and was as spoiled as I could possibly make her. Writing her story down helps me remember the joy she brought me. Hopefully it will bring you some as well.
She came to me on Valentine’s Day by way of the Atlanta Humane Society and she was my “scratch and dent” kitty. Her previous life had been less than happy and she arrived at the pound with a broken tail, bowed back legs and a general terror of pretty much everything.
She also, like a number of white cats, sported a pair of mismatched eyes; one green and one blue. It was odd enough most of the time, but flash photography made her look like the Terminator kitty.
For the first week she hid behind the washing machine or under the bed. Eventually she was coaxed out with food and kind words. After an adjustment period she decided I was acceptable and could continue to stay in her house.
She had an odd but quiet personality and along with her odd walk (stemming from the bowed back legs), this garnered her a number of nicknames: “Binky,” “Boopatina Wobble Bottom,” “Ludmilla” and “Ghost Kitty.” She really had too much personality for a single name, but I have to say “Binky” was what she was called most often. The ghost kitty name came from that fact that most of my friends rarely saw more than a glimpse of her. Which is odd, given that she spent most of her time napping. She liked to lay in the windowsill and sun herself.
She had a select list of people she liked and as she got older, she seemed to become more social. However, right from the start she developed a very strong attachment to my other cat, Cricket and as I am going back through pictures I have found dozens of the two of them spooned up together.
She also developed a singular attachment to the bed, which she considered to be hers by Divine right and generously allowed me to share. Other than eating and the litter box, she could almost always be found on the bed, waiting for someone to lay down and spoon with her.
In the mornings, when I made the bed she would follow me from side to side, staying on the mattress but within petting distance. When I went to sleep at night she flop over on me with all of the gentleness of a sumo wrestler and wiggle her way up until she tucked herself into my armpit and laid her head on my shoulder.
Letting her go was very difficult. Doubly so since Cricket passed in August. She was a loving friend and a good comfort to me when I needed it. It is my fondest hope that wherever she is now, she and Cricket are spooning together and telling tales about me to all the other cats. I will miss her very much.