In September, we were sad to announce that Maureen and I had to say farewell to our beautiful and beloved cat Sable. After 13 healthy years, he developed stomach cancer, which was initially misdiagnosed as an infection (the biopsies had come back negative). He had rallied for a couple of months but took a turn for the worse in his last couple of weeks. He’d been dropping weight, which ultimately found him not really eating at all – a disturbing development for a cat that made so illustrious a career out of eating.

He spent his last night in the hospital, where he was made comfortable and given a last meal of tuna. His passing was very peaceful, thanks to the wonderful staff at Central Veterinary Hospital in North Haven, CT. Maureen held him in her arms as he gently and quickly slipped away, purring to the last.

Such a fine puss was not just a pet, but a member of our family; but even that would be an understatement, for he was family to our Order’s members and to the parade of sword students frequenting our home. He was our ambassador of hospitality, and there are many who will remember him at gathers, working the crowd for a piece of cheese or a handout from the feast table.

We adopted him (well, really he adopted us) in 2005 when he was just shy of a year old. Someone dropped him off anonymously at the office of a church where we were assisting with a charity medieval feast. Maureen was there to teach some of the church women a dance when, circling the room, he chose to sit with her; he came to live with us a few days later. Whoever his previous owner was must have treated him well though, for he had an unflagging trust in people and was as gregarious as some dogs – even greeting us at the top of the stairs when we’d come home from our jobs and always wanting to be in the same room as his humans.

He was a lover of milk (Simply Smart milk – not some cheap stuff!), cheese, cold cuts, salmon, tuna, and, as a Christmas treat, duck. A champion mouser in his prime, he slowed down a bit with age but never failed to be remarkably affectionate. His purr could be heard across a large room. I’ve included some classic photos of him here.

When not meowing for food or attention, cats are quiet creatures, and yet the house seems unnaturally quiet now with him not here. We’ll miss our Minky Man terribly. Thanks, little man in the fur suit, for more than a dozen glorious years – we’re glad they were good years for you too. Rest in peace…

Below is a gallery of some of the highlights of his illustrious career ~