On Sunday, November 4th, Burkina went out on a sunny day for his usual day of outside play. He was never seen nor heard from again. His collar was found next door, no signs of struggle to be found. It is a mystery what happened to Burkina, but he is lost to us.
Burkina was the youngest, toughest, and most rambuntious of my three cats, and the least
expected to exit my life first. It is simply unfair.
Burkina was great. He hunted mice, lizards, and even rabbits. Each day outside resulted in my wondering whether a "present" would be brought home. Burkina liked to follow me around the yard as I did my chores, constantly being near me, in his dog-like way. He'd keep getting in the way of my weeding, just to get a pet here or there. He'd plop and roll over on the front carpet everyday I got home, and yawn and stretch each morning to greet me. He was the first one up in the morning, and the last to bed. At ten years he was still very much a kitten. He'd race around the house chasing invisible foes, or bat my head as I rounded a corner, initiating a chase scene. I'd spin him on the kitchen floor to make him dizzy, or swing him in a grocery bag. Burkina was a playmate.
Part Maine-coon, part tabby, Burkina was a big, strong, gentle cat. Burkina was afraid of anything or anyone outside of the house, running full speed for home, even from me sometimes! He was especially afraid of children and would hide in the house as soon as any arrived, only to appear when the last child left.
Burkina would walk out on the dock to be with us, jump in the boat and explore, and would always be waiting on the shore for us to come back. He loved to explore, getting found in people's cars and houses. As he grew older he got more adventurous, and I often worried if he was taking too much risk. But he was strong and clawed, and it is what made him happy, which is all I ever wanted for him.
We were on vacation when he disappeared, and I left with a kiss on the head and belly rub (he hated those, so I snuck them in when I could). So, I guess, in a way at least, I did get to say good-bye, whereas I would not have if I hadn't been going away.
Burkina loved his older "uncles", Benin and Togo. He slept with them often, cleaned their heads, and rubbed them constantly. He loved me.
And now I have to admit he's dead.
My Fuzzy Guy, Burk-a-lina, my Burkina, I will miss you dearly...
