Punto

Punto

At 2AM last Friday, my friend Kristel emailed me from Belgium with the news that her cat Punto, a spectacular Maine Coon and also a good friend of mine, wasn't doing well at all; and if somehow I managed to find myself awake at that hour, I'd have a small window of opportunity to say goodbye to him over Skype before she had to make a tearful trip to the vet. By some fluke I was still up, having returned late from a Freemason function, and I'd decided to check my messages before heading to bed. I was pretty well exhausted, but I couldn't imagine not trying to reach them.

I'd met both Kristel and Punto several years ago at more or less the same time, but it's my first encounter with Punto that I remember clearly. I'd been watching television by myself in the sprawling resident lounge of my apartment building in Seattle when a large cat swaggered in, alone. He paused and scanned the room nonchalantly, his gaze landing momentarily on me. "Hello," I said. He blinked, then continued into the room, inspecting the soft furniture. A few moments later, Kristel appeared in the doorway. The two of them had just moved into the building.

After summoning Kristel on Skype, we talked for a few minutes, reminding each other how terrific Punto was, and I managed to catch a glimpse of him resting on the couch beside her. He was quiet and Kristel was deeply upset. We kept it short.

At about the same time I moved to Australia, Kristel moved with Punto back to her native Belgium, and they've been living in Vosselaar, near Antwerp, ever since. In 2010, during a business trip to Germany, I managed to tack on a four-day visit to see them. Kristel and I had a really good time, going for walks through the neighbourhood and the city, and taking the train to Louvain-la-Neuve to see the recently-opened Musée Hergé. And I remember how lucky I felt that Punto, notoriously fickle, chose to hang out with me while I slept.

I miss you, friend. Happy trails.